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Full text of "The Penny Magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge"

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HARVARD 
COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 



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s 



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THE 



PENNY MAGAZINE 



OF 



THE SOCIETY 



FOR TH1 



DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 



1834. 



LONDON:— CHARLES KNIGHT. 

NEW YORK:— WILLIAM JACKSON. 

BOSTON:— MUNROE & FRANCIS. 

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4fc* 



HARVARD COLLEGE LIBnAmr 

AN AUr-!iY?:0US GIFT 

JUL 25 1940 



COMMITTEE. 

OAofe-mcft— The Right Hon. tne LORD CHANCELLOR. F.R.S., Member of the National Institute of Prase*. 
Vic+Cktshrmusn— The Right Hon. LORD JOHN RUSSELL, M.P., Paymaster of the Force*. 
7r*a«ir#r— WILLIAM TOOKE, Esq.. M.P., F.R.S\ 



W. Allen, Esq., F.R. and ILA.8. 

Rt. Von. Vise. Althorp, M.P., Ofcaaeolle* of 

the Exchequer. 
Cant. F. Beaufort, R.N., F.R. and R.A.S., 

Hydrographer to the Admiralty. 
Sir 6. Bell. F.R.S.L. and £. 
O. Burrows, M.D. 
C. Hay Cameron, Esq. 
The Rt. Rev. the Bishop of Chichester, D.D. 
William Coutson, Esq. 
R. D. Craig, Esq! 
Wm. Crawford, Esq. 
J. Frederick Danlell, Esg. F.R.S. 
H. T. Delabeche. Esq., V.P. Geol. Society. 
Rt Hon. Lord Denman. 
T. Drummond, Esq. RE., F.R.A.8. 
C. L. Eastlake, Esq., R.A. 
Rt. Hon. Vine. Ebrfngton, M.P. 
Sir Henry Ellis. Prin. I<ib. Brit. Mns. 



T. F. tills, flsq., A.M., _F.lt A.9. 

John Elliotson. M.D., F.R. 8. 

Thomas Falconer, Esq. 

I. L. Golds mid, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S. 

B. Gomperts, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S. 

G. B. Greenough, Esq., F.R. and L.S. 

H. Hallam, Esq. F.R.S.. M.A. 

M. D. Hill, E»q. M.P. 

Rowland Hill, Esq., F.R.A.S. 

Edwin Hill, Esq. 

The Rt. Hon. Sir J. C. Hobhonse, Bart. 

David Jar dine, Esq., A.M. 

Henry B. Ker, Esq. 

The Rt Hon. the Earl of Kerry. M.P. 

Th. Hewitt Key, Esq., A.M. 

George C. Lewis, Esq., A.M. 

James Loch, Esq., M.P., F.G.S. 

George Long, Esq., A.M. 



J.W. LnbbocM 
H. Maiden, Esq. A.l 
In, Es< 



»F.IL,|U.smdL.8.* 



A. T. Malkln, Esq- A.M. 

James Manning, Esq. 

J. Herman Merivale, Esq., A.M., FJL8. 

James Mill, Esq. 

W. H. Ord, Esq. M.P. 

The Right Hon. Sir H. Parnell, Bart, M.P. 

Dr. Roget, Sec. R.S., F.R.A.S, 

Sir M. A. Shee, PR. A., F.R.S. 

John Abel Smith, Esq., M.P. 

John Taylor. Esq. F.ILS. 

Dr. A. T. Thomson, F.L.S. 

John Ward, Esq. 

H. Waymouth, Esq. 

J. Whlshaw, Esq., A.M., F.R.8. 

John Wood, Esq. 

John Wrottesley, Esq., A.M., F.R.A.S. 



LOCAL COMMITTEES. 



A ngleeea— Rev. E. Williams. 

Rev. W. Johnson. 

Mr. Miller. 
Ashburton—3. F. Kingston, Esq. 
Barnstaple. Bancraft Esq. 

William Grlbble. Esq. 
BUtloft— Rev. W. Leigh. 
Birmingham— Rev.J.Corrie,F.R.S. Chairman. 

Paul Moon James, Esq., Treasurer. 

W. Red fern, Esq., Honorary See, 
Bridport— Wm. Forster, Esq. 

James Williams, Esq. 
Bristol— J. N. Sanders, Esq., Chairman. 

J. Reynolds, Esq., Treasurer. 

J. B. Estlln, Esq., F.L.8., Secretary. 
Calcutta— Lord Wm. Bentlnck. 

Sir Edward Ryan. 

James Young. Esq. 
Cambridge — Rev. James Bowstead, M.A. 

Rev. Prof. Henslow, M.A., F.L.S. & G.S. 

Rev. Leonard Jeoyas, MJW F.L£. 

Rev. John Lodge. M.A. 

Rev. Geo. Peacock, M.A., F.R.S. ft G J. 

R.W.Rothmsn,Esq.,M.A.,F.R.A.S.&G.S. 

Rev. Prof. Sedgwick, M.A., K.R.8.& G.S. 

Professor Smyth, M.A. 

Rev. C. Thlrlwall, M.A. 
Canterbury— John Brent, Esq., Alderman. 

J. G. K. Burt, M.D., Treasurer. 

Thomas Wilkinson, Esq., Secretary. 

H. Carter, M.D., F.R.S.E. 

William Masters, Esq. 
Canton— J. F. Davis, Esq., F.R.S. 
Cardigan— Rer. J. Blackwell. 
Carlisle— Thomas Barnes, M.D„ F.R.S.E. 
Carnarvon — R. A. Poole, Esq. 

William Roberts, Esq. 
Chester— Hayes Lyon, Esq. 

Henry Potts, Esq. 
Chichester— John Forbes, M.D , F.R.S. 
* C. C. Dendy, Esq. 

Corfu— John Crawford, Esq. 

Mr. Plato Petrldes. 
Coventry — Arthur Gregory, Esq 
Denbigh— John Madocks, Esq. 

Thomas Evans, Esq. 



Berby—Juueph Strntt, Esq. 
Edward Sti *" 



Strutt, Esq., M.P. 
Devonport and Stonehouse— John Cole, Esq. 

— Norman, Esq. 

Lt. Col. C. Hamilton Smith, F.R.S. 
Edinburgh— b«mt.rd Horner, Esq., FJLS.L. 

ScK. 
Exeter— J. Tyrrell, Esq. 

John Milford, Esq. (Coaver.) 
Glasgow — K. Fin lay, Esq. 

Professor Mylne, 

Alexander McGrlgor, Esq. 

Charles Tennant Esq. 

James Cowper, Esq. 
QlamorgansJtire— Dr. Malkln, Cowbrldge. 

W. Williams, Esq., Aberpergwm. 
Guernsey— V. C. Lukls, Esq. 
Hull— J. C. Parker, Esq. 
Keighley, Yorkshire— We*. T. Dory, M.A. 
Launceston— Rev. J. Barfitt 
Lesmumaton Spa— Mr. London, M.D. 
Leeds—}. Marshall. Esq. 
Lewes— J. W. Woollgar, Esq. 
Limerick— Wm. O'Brien. Esq. 
Liverpool Loe. As.—W. W. Currie, Esq. Ch 

J. Mulleneux, Esq., Treasurer. 

Rev. W. Shepherd. 
Ludlow— T. A. Knight, Esq., P.H.S. 
Maidenhead— R. Goolden, Esq., F.L.S. 
Maidstone— Clement T. Smyth, Esq. 

John Case, Esq. 
Alalmesbury—B. C. Thomas, Esq. 
Manchester Loe. As.—Q.W. Wood, Esq., Ch. 

Benjamin Hey wood, Esq., Treasurer. 

T. W. Winstanley, Esq., Hon. Sec. 

Sir G. Philips, Bart. M.P. 
Masham—Rer. Oeortre Wadaiogton, M.A. 
Merthyr Tydvil—J. J. Guest Esq. M.P. 
Minchtnhampton — John G. Ball, Esq. 
Neath— John Rowland, Esq. 
Newcastle— Rev. W. Turner. 
Newport, Isle of Wight— Ab. Clarke, Esq. 
T. Cooke, Jun., Esq. 
R. G. Kirkpatrick, Esq. 
Newport Paanell—i. Millar, Esq. 
Newtown, Montgomeryshire— W. Pugh, Esq. 



Norwich— Rt Hon. Lord SaBeld. 

Richard Bacon, Esq. 
Orfard— Dr. Daubeny, F.R.S. Prof, of Chem. 
Rev. Prof. Powell. 
Rev. John Jordan, B.A. 
Rev. R. Walker, M.A., F.R.8. 
E. W. Head, Esq., M.A. 
W. R. Browne, Esq., B.A. 
Penaug— Sir B. H. Malkln. 
Plymouth— H. Woollcombe, Esq., F. As 
Chairman. 
Snow Harris. Esq., F.R.S. 
E. Moore, M.D., F.L.S., Secretary. 
G. Wightwick, Esq. 
Presteign—Dr. A. W. Davies, M.D. 
Rippon—Rev. H. P. Hamilton. M.A 
and G.S. 
Rev. P. Ewart, M.A. 
Rm then— Rev. the Warden of. 
Humphreys Jones, Esq. 
Ryde, Maetmcmt-Wx M. tlavson, Bart.. 

M.P. 
Sheffield— J. H. Abrsham, Esq. 
Shepton Mallet— G. F. Burroughs, Esq. 
Shrewsbury -R. A.SIaney, Esq., M.P. 
South Petherton— John Ntcholetls, Esq. 
St. Asaph— Ker. George Strong. 
Stockport— H. Marsland, Esq., Treasurer 

Henry Coppock, Esq., Secretary. 
Tavistock— Ilev. W. Evans, 

John Rundle, Esq. 
Truro— Richard Taunton, M.D. 
Henry Sewell Stokes, Esq. 
Tunbridge Weils— Dr. Yeats, M.D. 
Warwick— Dr. Conolly. 

The Rev. William Field, {Leamington.) 
Water/ord—S\r John Newport, Bt. 
Wolverhampton- J. Pearson, Esq. 
Worcester— Dr. Corbett, MJ>. 
Dr. Hastings, M.D. 
C. H. Hebb, Esq. 
Wrexham— Thomas Edg worth, Esq. 

J. E.Bowman, Esq.. P.L.S M Treasurer. 
Major William Lloyd. . 
York— Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A 



THOMAS COATES, Esq., Secretary, No. 69, Lincoln's Inn Fields 



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INDEX TO VOLUME HI. 



Aiasr,cxpcnd3twa of agitata*. 7- ._ 
Account* importanoe of accuracy b, 45L 
Activity, advantage o£ 81. 



Adjutant, or gigantic 



ot4L 



„ „ w vceasjiy c 

AdoxaJioaof the Shepherds, by Span 

of. 146. 

Ahriers. historical and descriptive account oJ 
Allspice-tree, account oC 888. 
America, account of the trade with, 6. 
Amiens Cathedral, description of, 52. 
Amsterdam, historical and descriptive • 
- of, 317. 

Appearances, fake, their likeness to troth. 2 
Aracari, carl-crested, description of* 105. 
Argand lamp, deseriptiaa of* lift. 
Aurora, Guulo'c picture oC critical notice o£ 
Auscultation, discovery and practice oC 7L 

Baooir, Lord, observations by.i72. 399. 

Balbec, present state of the ruins of, 43. 

Balsa, description of. 150. 

Bank of England, description at 348. 

Barrows, account o& 494. 

Bat, the Kaloug, description ofc 808. 

Batg. nature and habits. of, 80ft. 

Bathing, cleanliness, fee* advice with reap 

398. 
Bay-tree, account of. 314. 
Beards, obsertatloaa on, 307. 
Beauvais, town and cathedral, account oC •% 
Bedford Level, account of the, 138. 
Bedouin Arabs, narrative concerning the, 9$ 
Bee management, improved s y s t em of, XL 
Bells, account of, 404. 
Best place and heat friend, 184 
Bills of Mortality, observations on the. H 
Birmingham Town Hall, description of. 239 ; 

account of. 436. 
Bison, natural history of the. 873. 
Boa Constrictor, account of. 394. 
Bobbin- net manufacture, historical account o 
Bonze, the grateful, 60. 
Book, value of a good one, 838. 
Books in the Middle Ages, account of, 87 ; i 

by Milton on the diffusion of. 837; person 

racter of. 947 ; ancient church, their value 
Boy extracting a Thorn, statue of, 233. 
Bread, mode of making in the East, 9. 
Bristol, historical and descriptive account < 



uaspar riauser, Diograpmcai notices ot. s/. 
Cat, anecdote of the gratitude of a, 934. 
Cat painter, biographical notice of a, 86. 
Cemeteries, account of, 173 ; observations o 
Chagrin, effect of, 993.- 
Chance denned, 920.. 

Chappows of the Turkomans, account of, 14 
Chestnuts, manner of clearing them from th 

in Savoy, 944. 
Chetah, or hunting leopard, descriptive 

of, 31. 
Chinese junk, description of, 9. 
Chili, aborigines of, 318 ; horsemanship in, J 
Chinese barbers, 179; poem, account of 

women, description of, 371 ; inhabitants o 

371. 
Chlamyphorus truncatus, description of, 49. 
Church nosegays, curious custom relating tc 
Cinnamon and cassia. 119. 
Civilization, life prolouged by, 300. 
Cities of Silence, or Turkish burial-grounds 
Cleanliness, advice with respect to, 438. 
Clucks, historical account of, 187 ; description 

machinery of, 195; striking machinery of, 
Cloth, manner of printing in the South Sea J 

172. 
Coaches, historical notice of. 391. 
Coffee, best mode of preparing tor use, 998. 
Common qualities, value of, 184. 
Commons, House of. origin of, 506; acts i 

to the early condition of, 507* 
Conveniences, comparison of past and press 
Corfu, account of. 394. 
Cornish fishermen, account ot, 969. 
Cornwall, mines in, on the system of cc 

pursued at, 500. 



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INDEX. 



fnrilaaeet. How* oft Ustorteei and descriptive 
aaeotn* oft US, 448; amount of the burning oft 
446, tapestry of the Homo of Lords. 453 1 the 
Painted Chamber, 456; information relating to 
the Houm of Lords* 466; origin of the House of 
Commons, 606; nets fllustrative-of its early eon- 
dkkm.807. 

Parrot* the gray* anecdote of one* 119. 

Parsees, account of the, 188. 

Patronage* observations on, from the * Rambler,' 
9*0 

Pauperism, remarks on the progress oft 831. 

Peak Cavern, in Derbyshire, description oft 148. 

rare la Chaise, cemetery oft 870. 

Perpetual motion, observations on* 8. 

Perseverance of an ant, noticed by Tamerlane, 149. 

Persia, instance of compulsory service in, 938; 
usages with respect to presents in, 319. 

Peruvian sepulchres, 107. 

Peter the Wild Boy, some particulars concerning, 8. 

Piazxa del Popolo, account of, 369. 

Pin, new patent, account of, 8. 

" Place of Fire," and Naphtha Springs of Sherwao, 
account of, 41. 

Poets in Persia, account oft 117« 

Pole- Phuca Waterfall in Ireland, notice oft 398. 

Pompeii, house of the Faun at, description of, 999. 

Pompcyjs Pillar, account of, 137. 

Post Office, history and present state of, 33. 

Practical Instruction, anecdote concerning, 184. 

Praise, remark of Goldsmith on, ISO. 

Presents, usages with respect to, in Persia, 319. 

Professions and Trades of the Metropolis, 46, 70. 

Pulse, observations on the, 63. 

Pyramid Cemetery, description oft 389. 

Bats, anecdote of, 499. 

Reading, advice respecting. 469. 

Remote views, 184. 

Reserve, remark on, 107. 

Rheims, city and cathedral, description oft 370. 

Rhinoceros, ene-horned, account of, 158. 

Rialto, at Venice, description of. 410. 

Riches, stansa on by Spenser, 336. 

Robin* anecdote of a, 503. 

Roman Plane, or Squares* account oft 869. 

"* 1 oft 



ne* or Squares* 
histories* and 



Routine education, anecdote concerning, 184 
Royal George, narrative of the loss of the, 174. 
Rubens, his picture of the Descent from the Cross, 

critical observations on, 301. 
Runic stones, observations on, 469. 

8aokhsvsk, Johh, the Esquimaux* biographical 
sketch oft 309. 

St. Patrick's Cathedral* Dublin, description of, 130. 

St. Paul's Cathedral* historical and descriptive ac- 
count of, 161. 

Salmon- fishing on the coast of Antrim, and saga- 
city of a dog. 184. 

Salt-water lake in India, description of. 999. 

San Marino, account of the republic oft 90L 

Sandwich Islands, first use of the gallows in* 358. 

Savages, on the physical powers or, 99. 

Savoy, manner of cultivating the vines in, 947. 

Scarborough Castle, historical notice of. 143T- 

Scratchell's Bay, in the Isle of Wight, 135. 

Self-advancement, instance oft 975. 

Self-love, remark on, by Bacon, 435. 

Shakspeare's Cliff, 97. 

Shaving, observations on, 386. 

Similes from Firdouseo, 188. 

Slate, its applicability for pavements, 96. 

Slavery in the East, descriptive sketch oft 948. 

* 8moker,' by Ostade, notice oft 181. 

Snow-harvest at Naples and in Sicily, 335, 347. 

Snow-houses inhabited by the Esquimaux, 893. 

Solitude, verses by Cowley on, 60. 

8ongs of the Seasons: the Spring Seng. 96. 

gpada. biographical notice oft 923. 

Spagnoletto, critical remarks on the paintings of, 

Spider, natural history of the, 131; its process for 
disengaging itself from its skin, 985. 

Sponge, mode of diving for, 97. 

Spring, indications of, 150, 887. 

Statistics of Paris, abstract oft 918. 

Stonehengc, description oft 69. 

Stork, the White, natural history of, 89l 

Snono's Pillar at Forres, description oft and his- 
torical remarks on, 308. 

Suspension Bridges, observations on, 439; of the 
Himalaya, 880. 

Swedish peasants, their frugal rare and affection 
for horses* 79. 

TaMABnrDTMi*nrJefnoticeoft97. 



Tapestry of the Room of Leeds, deecriptJon <*t 

Tapir, the Indian, natural history oft 193. 
Temperance, advantages oft 30. 
Tenters, biographical sketch oft 958. 
Terriers, English and Scotch, description oft 65. 
Theories, observation on, by Chalmers, 988. 
Thirst quenched without drinking, 300. 
' This is Life,' verses by Henry King, 14. 
Thrushes, their manner of breaking the shells of 

snails. 19. 
Tiger, effect of fear on a. 303. 
Tilbury Fort, short notice of, 64. 
Time-piece, a curious, 14. 
Treves. Black Gate of, historical sketch relatinf to. 

487. 
Truth, progress oft 149. 
Turkey and Egypt, description of the houses in, 

198. 
Tutbury in Staffordshire, silver coins found at, 

430. 
Twelfth Night, customs relating to, 497* 

United States, common schools in the, 478. 
Upnor Castle, account of, 965. 

Vain Rsorst, a song. 4. 

Van Diemen'a Land, wild dogs in. 197.970; descrip- 
tion of the natives of, 935. 
Vegetable acquisitions, observations on, 975. 
Virtue, remark of Bacon on, 415. 
Volcanic island near Sicily, account oft 10. 
Volcanic island off the Azores, notice oft 96. 

Waltham Cross, account of, 1. 

Westminster Abbey, descriptive account oft 989. 

musical festivals at, 294; historical account oft 

338; monuments oft 339. 
Wilkinson, Isaac and John, their improvements in, 

the casting of iron, 387. 
Wish, verses by Rogers, 51. 
Wolt character and habits of the, 169. 
Wonder, remaskon, by Bacon, 485. 
Writing, advantages of the practice oft 463. 

Tobk Castle and Ctiflbrdt Tower,' sketch of 

351. 
* Young Beggar/ by Murillo* notice oft 1U 
Youth, observation on by Johnson, 178. 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 



OF TBI 



Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



113J 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[Jahoaey 4, 1884. 



wattwau run fin 



Walthaii Cross wa 
built within the lai 
ten years of the thii 
teenth century, who 
the pointed style c 
architecture was un 
dergoing a change, o 
passing from the fin 
to the second perioc 
It is one of about fi( 
teen which were erect 
ed by Edward I., ii 
memory of his affec 
tionate and devotei 
wife Eleanor of Cas 
tile, in the place 
where her corpse wa 
rested for the night 
in the long and melan 
choly journey whicl 
he himself made witl 
it from Herdeley ii 
Nottinghamshire, no 
far from which plac 
she died, to Westmin 
ster Abbey, where i 
was buried in the cha 
pel of KingEdwan 
the Confessor. The; 
were long knowi 
as Queen Eleanor' 
crosses, and althougl 
all but three of then 
have perished, tradi 
tkm still marks th 
sites of most of th 
number. Charing 
Cross derives its nam 
from the lust of th 
series, and the othe 
two still existing, be 
sides Waltham, an 
at Northampton ant 
Geddington. 

This one of the se 
ries of beautiful me 
tnorials of conjuga 
love, and perhaps th 
most beautiful of then 
all. had fallen so mud 
into decay as t 
become an almos 
shapeless mass c 
stone. A few year 
more would have lei 
nothing of Walthan 
Cross remaining bu 
the name. Fortu 
nately the attentioi 
of the neighbourly 
gentry, and of othei 
who take an inter* 
ia such subjects, wi 

Voi* HI. 



called to this while it 
nras yet time to sara 
something of its pris- 
tine form and matter, 
and while it still af- 
forded indications up- 
Dn which much that 
nras deficient might 
be restored. A meet- 
ing was consequently 
held, at which Colonel 
Moody of the Roval 
Engineers presided; 
resolutions were en- 
tered into to raise 
money by subscrip- 
tion for the purpose 
of restoring or repair- 
ing the monument, 
and a subscription 
aras immediately com- 
menced by those who 
wrere present. The 
designing a id direc- 
tion of the work were 
intrusted to Mr. W. 
B. Clarke, assisted by 
a committee of the 
subscribers. The re- 
storation is, upon the 
whole, satisfactory. 

The subscription 
which has been en- 
tered into for the pur- 
pose of repairing this 
interesting monument 
is very creditable to 
those who have set it 
m foot. It is plea- 
sant to find a spirit 
)f attachment to our 
>ld historical memo- 
rials springing up on 
■very side. The last 
generation, and those 
vho weut before them, 
were too much in the 
labit of destroying 
he relics of their Ibre- 
athers,— -at any rate, 
>f leaving time to 
vork their destrnc- 
ion. We have learnt 
hat the ancient mo- 
mments of a nation- 
ire amongst its best 
x>ssessions. 

Mr. Clarke has 
avoured us with a 
(rawing of the an- 
lexed wood-cut,which 
xhibiVlhe Croat as 
■stored. 



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THE fENNT MAdAilNfi. 



[JxtUAtT 4, 



PERPETUAL IfOTlON. I together that the wildest enthusiast expects them to be 

(From a Corrttpondent.) I endowed wltn the power of self-movement ; nor then 

An able writer in the 'Penny Maguine' hat clearly un, ? 8S the . machine is . ?* «° in ff- 1 never '"»"' of » 
shown the futility of seeking- to square the circle, a 



pursuit in which, he say*, persons are still engaged 
How many may waste their time on such an object I 
have no means of knowing; — not any considerable 
number, I should think, as nobody can expect any 
profit to arise even from success. At all events, such 
enthusiasts must be few indeed compared with those 
who are spending their days and nights, and ex- 
hausting their means, in the equally vain hope of dis- 
covering the perpetual motion. Professional men, 
employed in preparing patents, could tell of project 
after project submitted to them by I he impatient in- 
ventor who is afraid of waiting to perfect his machine, 
lest his invaluable secret should get abroad, and he 
should be deprived of the riches which he has all but in 
his grasp. 

Two classes of persons are inveigled into this hope* 
less quest : the first is the projector, — generally a man 
who can handle tools, and who is gifted with some 
small power of invention, — a faculty, as Mr. Babbage 
justly observes, by no means rare, and of little use 
unless coupled with some knowledge of what others 
have done before him. Of the inventions already made, 
— of the experiments which have been tried and have 
failed, — our projector is usually profoundly ignorant. 
What are called the laws of mechanics, namely, general 
truths which were established by the observations of 
scientific men in times past, and which are now ad- 
mitted by all who take the trouble to investigate them, 
lie has either never heard of or chooses to set at nought 
without inquiry. The other class is that which finds 
capital. The projector, having perhaps exhausted his 
own funds, takes his scheme to some person who has a 
l.ttle money to spare, and dazzles him with the prospects 
«f Midden and splendid wealth : little by little he is drawn 
into expenses which neither of them perhaps had an- 
ticipated. Failure after failure ensues, but still all is to 
be right at last. The fear of ridicule, — the necessity 
for retrieving, the one his capital, the other his credit,—* 
these motives carry them on till the ruin of both puts a 
termination to their folly. 

Unhappily, however, the stage is quickly occupied by 
other adventurers, profiting nothing by the fate of their 
precursors ; and yet one would think (hat a very slight 
consideration of the subject would be sufficient to show 
the absurdity of the undertaking. What is the object 
aimed at ? Is it to make a machine which, being once 
set in motion, shall go on without stopping until it is 
worn out? Every person engaged in the pursuit of the 
perpetual motion would perhaps accept this. as a true 
statement of the object in view. Yet nothing is more 
easy than to make such a machine. There are from ten 
to twenty of them at work at this moment on the Rhine, 
ophite Mayence. These are water-mills in boats, 
which are moored in a certain part of the river ; and, as 
the Rhine is never dry, these mills, which are simple in 
th«r construction, would go on for years, — go on, 
indeed, until they were worn out. But if this instance 
were mentioned, the projector would perceive thai the 
statement of his object was imperfect. It must ma 
thus : —a machine which, being set in motion, shall go 
on till worn out without any power being employed to 
keep it in motion. 

Probably few persons who embark in such a project 
sit down beforehand to consider thoroughly what it is 
they are about to undertake, otherwise it could hardly 
require much knowledge of mechanics to see the im- 
possibility o£ constructing such a machine. Take as 
many shafts, wheels, pulleys, and springs as you please : 
if you throw them in a heap in the corner of your room, 
you do not expect them to move ; it is yily when put 



projector who expected his engine to set off the moment 
the last nail was driven, or instantly on the last stroke 
of the file. And why not? A machine that would con- 
tinue to go of itself would begin of itself. No machine 
can be made which has not some friction, which, how- 
ever slight, would in a short time exhaust any power 
that could have been employed merely for the purpose 
of setting it in motion. But a machine, to be of any 
use, must not only keep moving itself, but furntih 
power ; or, in other words, it must not only keep iu mo* 
tion, but it must have power to expend in some labour, 
as grinding corn, rolling metals, urging forward a 
vessel or a carriage ; so that, by an arrangement of 
parts which of themselves have no moving power, the 
projector expects to make a machine, self-moving, and 
with the power of performing some useful task ! 

M Father, I have invented a perpetual motion !"' said 
a little fellow of eight years old. " It is thus : I would 
make a great wheel, and fix it up like a water-wheel ; at 
the top I would hang a jrreat weight, and at the 
bottom I would hang a number of little weights ; then 
the great weight would turn the wheel half round and 
sink to the bottom, because it is so heavy, and when the 
little weights reached the top, they would sink down 
because they are so many, and thus the wheel would 
turn round for ever." The child's fallacy is a type of 
all the blunders which are made on this subject. Follow 
a projector in his description, and if it be not perfectly 
unintelligible, which it often is, it always proves that he 
expects to find certain of his movements alternately 
strong and weak* not according to the laws of nature, 
but according to the wants of his mechanism. 

If man could produce a machine which would generate 
the power by which it is worked, he would become a 
creator. All he has hitherto done,— all, I may safely 
predict, he ever will do,— »is to mould existing power so 
at to make it perform his bidding. He can make the 
waterfall in the brook spin his cotUm, or print his book 
by means of machinery, but a mill to pump water 
enough to keep itself at work he cannot make. Absurd 
as it may teem, the experiment has been tried ; but, in 
truth, no scheme is too absurd for adoption by the 
seekers after perpetual motion. A machine, then, is a 
mere conductor of power into a useful channel. The 
wind grinds the corn,— the sails, the shafts, and the 
stones are only the means by which the power of the 
wind can be turned to that particular purpose ; so it is 
the heat thrown out by the burning coal which per- 
forms all the multifarious operations of the steam- 
engine, the machinery being only the connecting links 
between the cause and the effect. 

Perhaps these remarks may induce any projector who 
has not yet begun, to pause on his enterprise ; and may 
cause those who are about to advance their capital in 
such vain speculations, to examine the probabilities of u 
return for their outlay. 

BREAD IN THB BAST. 
A »£*§** a c euaioma el to the lengthened processes by 
which food la prepare* fo Europe* is considerably sur- 
prised Whell Wrought to observe the rapidity of similar 
preparations in the East A sheep is killed, flayed, and 
cooked in the course of an hour and a half; coffee is 
roasted, {round, and boiled in about ten minutes ; and 
meal is kneaded and baked — and perhaps the corn 
ground— in seldom more than twenty minutes. Much 
of this may be accounted for by the heat of the climate, 
by which many artielct would be spoiled if kept too 
long previously to being need. Meat would be tainted 
in less than a day ; the oily principle in coffee would 
be lost, and its pleasant aroma evaporate; and 



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TO? JENNY MAGAZINE 



loaf bread would quickly turn sour, or be rendered 
unpleasant by the absorption of its moisture. With this 
cause concur the habits of life which continue to indicate 
the common origin of the various tribes of people who 
inhabit the countries between the Indus and Mediter- 
ranean ; for such is the wonderful tenacity with which 
ancient habits are retained in the East, that in one state 
of society we frequently find the usages of another, 
more early and rude, persisted in. Four thousand 
years ago, when the hospitable patriarch wished to 
place some refreshment before those who appeared to 
him as travellers in haste, he directed bread to be baked, 
and a calf to be killed and dressed for their entertain- 
ment. Hospitality would still be exhibited in the 
same form under similar circumstances ; and, in any 
circumstances, as little delay would occur in the pre- 
paration of food, although it had as many processes to 
go through. 

The various modes in which the grain is disengaged 
from the ear, reduced to meal, and made into bread, are 
all so different from our own, that one who has wit- 
nessed what he describes is led to think a connected 
view of the subject will not be unacceptable to the 
readers of the ' Penny Magazine. 1 

In or near villages there are usually inclosed thresh- 
ing floors, perfectly level, and laid over with a compost 
of clay and cow-dung, to prevent gravel and earth from 
being mingled with the grain. But generally, as it 
would be inconvenient to take the sheaves from the 
fields to the villages to be threshed, the husbandman 
seeks out some level spot on his grounds, to which the 
produce of the harvest is conveyed on the backs of his 
various cattle. At this place a portion of the corn in 
the ear is laid out in a circle of about a hundred paces 
in circumference, seven or eight feet wide, and from 
fifteen inches to two feet in height. When it is thus 
disposal, there are various methods of obtaining a 
separation of the grain from the ear, — all of them more 
expeditious though less cleanly than ours. It is often 
effected by simple treading. Oxen, and sometimes 
other cattle, are tied two or three together, and driven 
around upon the circle. As this exercise greatly fatigues 
them, they are frequently relieved. In some parts oxen 
are employed to draw a stone cylinder over the corn ; 
and, in the western parts of Asiatic Turkey, a plank or 
frame of wood, the lower surface of which is roughened 
with sharp stones, is the implement in use. But, in 
Persia and the eastern parts of Turkey, they have a 
frame-work, to which is attached two or three revolving 
cylinders of wood, bristled with spikes of different 
lengths, and which may not unaptly be compared to the 
barrel of an organ. These teeth punch out the grain 
with considerable effect, and chop and crush the straw 
at the same time. On the platform of this sufficiently 
clumsy machine sits a man who whips on the cattle, — 
generally a couple of oxen, — which in all these pro- 
cesses have a beam laid over their necks. Men are 
always in attendance with wooden forks, which have 
often many teeth spreading out like a fan, to keep the 
ears properly distributed, and to withdraw, into the 
clear centre of the circle, the straw on the surface which 
appears to have been sufficiently threshed. When the 
grain seems completely disengaged, it is thrown up with 
spades against the wind, so that the separated grain, 
the chaff, and the uncrushed ears fall at different dis- 
tances. The latter are thrown by among the material 
of the next layer. When one layer has been threshed, 
and the grain remoyed, the straw which had been with- 
drawn into the central space, is replaced in the ring, 
and driven over to be crushed and chopped for the use 
of the cattle, whose food is composed of barley and 
chopped straw, as they use neither hay nor oats in the 
East. The process of threshing concludes with the 
cafafiil collection of the clods of earth to which any 



grains adhere, and of the dust with whfch ftny may hf 
minded, and which is sifted with much care. 

The very primitive process of grinding the corn if 
less varied than that of' threshing. It is performed by 
the means of two small circular mill-stones. The 
lowermost stone is immoveable when in use ; but the 
uppermost being turned round by a wooden handle or 
pin, the corn between the two surfaces is ground, and 
the meal falling out at the edges, is received in a cloth, 
while the mill is continually replenished through a hole 
in the upper stone. This labour is generally performed 
in the early morning by the women of the household. 
They sit upon the ground, commonly two to a mill, the 
lower part of which is held between their legs. As the 
upper stone is whirled round, the women beguile their 
labours by singing, at the top of their voices, certain 
songs which seem almost appropriated to this service. 
The simultaneous noise of grinding and singing in an 
Oriental city warns the indolent that it is time to rise ; 
and the absence of such sounds is noticed in the Old 
Testament as a mark of desolation. This mode of grind- 
ing by women, with the tuneful accompaniment, is by 
no means confined to Asia. The same practice has been 
observed in Lapland; and Pennant not only notices 
something very similar in Scotland, but gives an en- 
graving which very well represents the Oriental pro- 
cess. It is the same in Africa. Many readers will 
remember the pathetic incident in the travels of Park, 
in which some African women having taken him, when 
ready to perish, to their homes, beguiled their labours 
by an extempore song lamenting his destitute condition. 
That he had " no wife to grind his corn," was the 
burden and climax of their song. A verse of Mrs. Bar- 
bauld's version may be given : — 

* Unhappy man, how hard his lot ; 
Far from his friends — perchance forgot 

As thus he sits forlorn J 
He boasts no mother to prepare 
The fresh-drawn milk, with tender care, — 

No wife to grind his com 1 " 

So much corn is generally ground every morning aa 
will serve the family for the day ; and after the grinding 
theprocess of baking immediately commences. 

liie oven is usually built of clay, and generally in- 
clines in shape to a cone, being about three feet high, 
and much wider at the bottom than the top, where 
there is an opening of more than a foot in diameter , 
and near the bottom there is another hole for the con- 
venience of introducing fuel and withdrawing a*hea. 
There are portable ovens of this kind, made of *tout 
earthenware, one of which is usually planted in the 
forecastle of the vessels navigating the Tigris, and in 
which bread is baked every day. In Kourdistan and 
Armenia, the general construction, which resembles a 
lime-kiln, is in the main preserved, but with this differ- 
ence, that the oven, instead of being raised above the 
ground, is dug in it, and is made to serve, besides, all 
the usual purposes of a fire-place. The oven is heated 
with wood ; and when it is burnt down to clear embers, 
which lie at the bottom and long continue to afford 
much heat, the dough is prepared in a large wooden 
bowl, and portions are successively moulded into the 
form of thick round cakes on a board or stone near the 
oven. These, when flattened out to about the size of a 
breakfast-saucer, the woman takes up and tosses about 
on her arms, with surprising dexterity and quickness, till 
it becomes no thicker than a pancake, and forms a circle 
of a foot in diameter, or an oblong of a foot and a half 
in length. When the cake is brqught to the requisite thin- 
ness, one side is wetted with water as well as the hand 
and arm, by which it is introduced into the oven. Xh§ 
wet side, by an operation which requires much tact with 
a piece of dough of such tenuity and extent* > stuck 
against the side of the oven, where it adheres until parr 



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TME PENNY MAGAZINE. 



[Januaiy 4, 



ftctly baked, when, if not properly attended to, it would 
fall into the hot embers at the bottom ; and, if prema- 
turely removed, cannot again be attached. Its timely 
Removal becomes therefore an operation requiring much 
judgment and care. If the introduction and removal 
of the cakes were not rapidly performed, the heat of the 
oven is generally so great that the arms and hands of 
the woman would be much injured. But such is the 
facility acquired by habit in all these operations, from 
the tossing of the cake to its final removal from the 
oven, that one woman finds no difficulty in attending 
to the baking of five or six cakes at once, at the same 
time preparing others to replace those withdrawn. The 
baking takes about five minutes, or less, according to 
the heat of the oven. The women pride themselves 
greatly on skill in these operations ; and among the 
Arabs, Kourds, Armenians, and the Eelauts of Persia, 
the reputation of being a skilful maker of bread power- 
fully recommends a young woman to the attention of 
those who are desirous to marry. 

The bread made in the manner we have described 
varies according to the prevailing taste in different parts. 
It is sometimes rather thin and crisp ; but more gene- 
rally flexible and moist— often, indeed, changed but 
slightly from the state of dough. In about twenty-four 
hours it becomes very hard, and cannot well be used 
without previous soaking in water ; consequently bread 
is only baked or bought for the occasions of the current 
day. This bread is not generally liked by Europeans, 
and the writer felt no small satisfaction in finding at 
Erzeroom, all the way from thence to the Black Sea, 
and at Constantinople, this pancake-bread superseded 
by loaves which are baked in ovens not much un- 
like our own. This change probably arose from the 
circumstance that the colder climate enabled the people 
to have bread which might be kept longer than a single 
day. It is common in that part of the country to see a 
large loaf of brown bread in the shop windows, slices 
from which, sold by weight, the poor people purchase 
as their wants require. 

Besides the ovens before described, there is a much 
simpler process of preparing the cake-bread, which we 
first had occasion to notice as performed by a poor 
Eelaut woman near the river Eraskh in Azerbijan, be- 
fore the door of a hut, about six feet square, formed of 
mats and sticks. A convex plate of sheet-iron was sup- 
ported, about five inches from the ground, by stones 
with the convexity upwards. This plate was heated by 
a slow fire underneath, and the thin cakes of dough 
were laid upon it and baked, less expeditiously, but we 
thought far more conveniently and cleanly, than by the 
other processes, in which particles of the clay, with 
which the oven is built or lined, are often brought away 
with the bread. 

There is a mode different from any of those men- 
tioned, by which a thin bread or biscuit is prepared, 
not thicker than a wafer, and which, being very crisp 
and dry, keeps much longer than any of the breads 
described. A thin paste is prepared, like that which 
we use in making puddings, and it is poured out and 
spread upon the outer surface of a portable oven of 
metal, stone, or earthenware. It is immediately con- 
solidated by the heat, and baked in a moment. 



Th* Dodo.— Mr. Reinagle, the eminent artist, has sent 
as a letter confirmatory of the existence of the Dodo, of 
which an account was given in the 75th Number of the 
4 Penny Magazine/ Mr. R. states, that while he was, for 
several years, engaged in the study of zoology, he had 
frequent occasion to hold discussions with Dr. Shaw of the 
British Museum, and with Messrs. Parkinson, on subjects 
in zoology of rare existence. He was on one occasion 
Invited to spend a whole day with Dr. S. at the Museum, 
where ha amused himself with a general examination of 



the numerous objects of natural history, unstuffed birds, 
animals, and reptiles, which were heaped together in the 
then lumber-room. After turning over a vast pile, he dis- 
covered the head and beak, with the short thick legs, of a 
bird, which instantly struck htm to be those of the Dodo. 
Mr. R. immediately ran with the relics to Dr. Shaw, who 
in the end concurred with him in considering the remains 
as those of the Dodo, the existence of which seemed to them 
no longer questionable. Mr. R. has not been able to 
learn what became of the fragments, but they ought still to 
be somewhere in the British Museum. 



THE VAIN REGRET. 

Oh ! had I nursed, when I was young, 
The lessons of my father's tongue, 
(The deep laborious thoughts he drew 
From all he saw and othrre knew,) 
I might have been — ah, me ! 
Thrice Mtger than I e'er shall be. 

For what saith Time ? 
Alas ! he only shows the truth 
Of all that 1 was told in youth! 

The thoughts now budding in my brain,-* 
The wisdom I have bought with pain,— 
The knowledge of life's brevity, — 
Frail friendship. — false philosophy, 
And all that ^sues out of woe, 
Mel h inks, were taught me long ago t 

Then what »>ay» lime r 
Alas ! he but brings oack the truth 
Of all 1 heard (and lost) in youth 1 

Truths ! hardly learn'd and lately brought 

From many a far fbrgottm scene ! 
Had I but listen* d, as 1 ought, 

To your voices, sage, — serene, 

Oh I what might I not have been 
In the realms of thought ! 

Barky Cornwall's Ettftitk Song*. 



THE AURORA OF GUIDO. 

The celebrated Aurora of Guido adorns one of the 
ceilings of the Palazzo Rospigliosi at Rome. The 
picture is painted in what may be called a middle 
manner, between the extremes of the two styles which 
this great artist practised at different periods of his life. 
Guido is chiefly known in this country by a style of 
silvery brightness, which he was led to adopt, less by 
any natural predisposition towards it than by a desire 
to obtain novelty, by a mode of practice directly con- 
trasted to the dark and forcible manner of Caravaggio, 
which had acquired great popularity, and which he had * 
begun by imitating. In all that relates to composition* 
character, and expression, the Aurora must rank among 
Guido's finest performances. The general conception 
is in the highest degree poetical ; the figure "of Apollo 
unites grace with dignity ; and that of Aurora, flying 
before him and strewing flowers upon the earth, seems 
buoyant as the morning breeze itself. It may be eb- 
jected to many of Guido's figures, however admirable 
in other respects, that their action is artificial, an4 even 
theatrical. The present composition is, however, entirely 
free from that defect : the action of the Hours is playful 
and simple, and the expression of their faces is admi- 
rably sweet and natural. The general vivacity of the 
effect is finely attempered by the still, broad, and 
brilliant light which surrounds the Apollo, and by the 
serene and silent aspect of the lower part of the picture, 
in which the earth and ocean seem just awakening 
beneath the dawn of day. 

The great merits of this work, — those of poetic con- 
ception and beautiful character, — are attempted to be 
given, however inadequately, in our engraving. 

The picture itself is not one of Guido's happiest 
efforts of colouring. The hues of the draperies are to* 
violently contrasted, and the sky presents a uniform 
mass of deep blue, the unpleasant effect of which, how«* 
ever, has probably been heightened, or altogether occa- 
sioned, by injudicious reparation. 



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[January 4, 



TRADE WITH AMERICA. 

Previous to the war which ended in the independence 
of the United States, that country waa supplied from 
England with most articles which were required for 
domestic comfort or househokl decoration. Although 
the industry and skill of the Americans have subsequently 
been exerted on home manufactures as substitutes for 
these foreign commodities, yet such has been the grow- 
ing prosperity of both countries since that period, that 
the average annual amount of the exports from England 
to the United States of America, is now much more than 
quadruple what it was between the years 1750 and 
1760. 

The official value of the medium annual exports to 
the whole of the Americas, both North and South, be- 
tween the years 1749 and 1755, was 2,001,690/.; be* 
tween the years 1784 and 1792, 5,605,6261.; in 1890, 
91,117,014/. For the United States alone the exports 
from this country, in 1830, were 8,236,677/.; and if 
te this amount be added 2,619,562/., the value of the* 
exports, in the same year, to the British possessions jn 
North Ameriea, the value will be 10,856,239/. This 
amount is nearly equal to the 10,915,778/. which tea* 
the total amount of exports from England, in 1760, to 
all parts of the world except India and China: the 
value of the exports to the latter places only amounted 
to 736,358/. 

The almost entire dependence of the British North 
American Colonies upon the parent country, for a supply 
of almost every article of commerce and luxury, is curi- 
ously illustrated, by an order sent to Glasgow for sup- 
plies for General Washington's family, in the general's 
own hand-writing, and dated the 20th of September, 
1759*. We think this document will be found of interest, 
not only as illustrating the character of some part of our 
trade with Ameriea at the early period to which we have 
alluded, and as showing the relative position of the two 
countries with regard to arts and manufactures previous 
to their dismember inept, but as exhibiting a great 
public character interesting himself in family arrange- 
ments, apd in the minute details of private life. It will 
be remembered that with the same hand, which, on this 
occasion, penned an order for a ribbon to adorn his wife, 
and barley-sugar for his children, he had a few years 
after to sign the treaty of peace, whereby the indepen- 
dence of his country was fully recognised. 

" 2 beaver hats, plain, each to cost a guinea ; 1 sword- 
belt of red morocco leather or buff,— N.B., no buckles 
or rings ; 4 lbs. of ivory blacking ; 2 best two*bladed 
knives ; 1£ ream of paper ; 2 flowered lawn aprons ; 

3 pair woman's white silk hose ; 6 pair fine cotton ditto; 

4 pair thread ditto ; 1 pair black and 1 pair white satin 
shoes of the smallest siz.es ; 6 pair woman's best kid 
gloves ; 6 pair ditto mittens ; 1 black mask ; 1 dozen 
most fashionable pocket handkerchiefs ; 2 pair neat small 
scissors ; 1 lb. sewing silk, shaded ; 4 pieces binding 
tape ; 19 M. pins (different sizes) ; 3 lbs, Scotch snuff; 

3 lbs. best violet Strasburgh ; 1 piece white satin ribbon, 
pearl edge ; 1 case of pickles ; 1 large Cheshire cheese ; 

4 lbs. green tea; 10 gross best corks; 1 bhd. best 
porter; 10 loaves of double and 10 of single refined 
eugar ; 3 snaffle bridles ; 9 best girths ; 25 lbs. brown 
soap ; 2 dozen packs playing cards ; 2 sacks best Eng- 
lish oats ; 1 dozen painter's brushes ; 12 best hand 
padlocks ; 1 8 bell-glasses for garden ; more chair bot- 
toms, such as were wrote for in a former invoice ; 1 more 
window-curtain and cornice ; busts of copper enamel or 
glazed, viz., of JuHus Caesar, of Alexander the Great, 
of Charles XII. of Sweden, and another of the King of 

• The list has already been published in Dr. CWand * • 8tatia*kal 
Acevant of Glasgow,' having baen taken, from Mr. Dugald Ban- 
aatynt'i ' Common-place Book,' into which it had bean transcribed 
from the original document. We have bean obliged by our limits 
te abridge it greatly. 



aH to be of the same me in order to 
ftl) up broken pediments over doors, and not to exceed 
I ft inches in height nor 10 inches in width; Prince 
Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough, of somewhat 
smaller size than the above ; sundry small ornaments for 
a chimney-piece that is 6 feet long and S inches broad ; 
100 lbs. of white biscuit ; 2 lanterns ; various cloths 
(as specified), with buttons and threads, enough to 
make up into clothing ; 40 yards coarse jean or fustian 
for summer frocks fur negro servants ; 1 piece dowlass 
at 10rf. ; i dozeu pair coarse strong thread hose for 
negro servants ; 4oO ells Osnaburgh ; 350 yards Kendal 
cotton; 100 yards Dutch blankets; 20 lbs. brown 
thread ; 20 sacks of salt ; a large quantity of different 
kinds of nails (specified) ; 2 dozen best staples ; sets 
of cooper's and joiner's tools ; 5 lbs. white sugar-candy ; 
10 lbs. brown ditto; 1 lb. barley-sugar; a large quan- 
tity of drugs and horse medicines of different sorts 
(*j>eeified)* 



MONKEYS AT GIBRALTAR. 

( From « Corrtipondtmi.) 

When I was at Gibraltar, the most amusing creatures 
in the garrison were the wild monkeys that ran about 
in great numbers on the face of that remarkable rock. 
As they were constantly seen, they were frequently the 
subject of conversation. People used to wonder where 
they came from, as they are not found in the neigh- 
bouring mountains of Spain, nor indeed, in their wild 
state, in any other part of Europe ; and it was equally 
matter of surprise how they lived on a bare rock that 
produced nothing but scorpions, lizards, a few black 
snakes, and, here and there, some dried up and di- 
minutive shrubs that looked as sapless as the rock 
itself. The soldiers and common people, indeed, 
accounted for all this in a manner perfectly simple and 
satisfactory to themselves, by assuming, as a certainty, 
that the celebrated Saint Michael's Cave, which has a 
mouth or entrance near the summit of the Rock of 
Gibraltar, and which penetrates to a depth that nobody 
as yet has been able to ascertain, is continued under the 
bed of the sea all across the Straits which separate the 
rock from Africa, and has a corresponding mouth on 
Mount Abyla, or " Apes' Hill," (as the African moun- 
tain is popularly called,) which is just opposite, and 
abounds with monkeys of precisely the same description. 
I felt it, however, rather difficult to conceive this double 
cavern and this connecting tunnel, which must be some 
six tee u miles long even if it ran in a perfectly straight 
line, or that the monkeys (supposing such a com- 
munication to exist between Europe and Africa) could 
have used it as a road by which to emigrate ; or 
(another thing included in their theory) that the mon- 
keys continued constantly to use it, going to and fro for 
their supplies of provisions, &c. 

It is not so amusing, but more natural, to suppose 
thaj, when the Moors invaded Spain from the opposite 
coast and settled in Gibraltar, some monkeys were 
brought over with them ; or that, at a more recent 
period, when the Spaniards, among other possessions 
in Africa, held Ceuta, in the neighbourhood of Apes' 
Hill, that they sent some monkeys to the garrison ; then 
that some of these cunning creatures escaped, and 
taking refuge in the inaccessible cliffs and caverns 
which compose so great a part of the rock of Gibraltar, 
propagated their species at liberty, and laid the founda- 
tion of the now numerous and flourishing colony. The 
all but isolated position of Gibraltar, which is joined to 
the main land by a low, narrow isthmus of sea-sand, 
which, at no very remote period, has evidently been 
under water, may account for their remaining confined 
to that rock and not extending into Spain. 

In whatever manner they may have come, there they 



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aie* end, a* I bare said before, in great numbers. Oh 
my walks to the upper part and the back of the Hock, 
— which were very frequent in the summer evenings, — 
f scarcely ever returned without having seen many 
6f them. Sometimes going quietly along, and turning 
the corner of a rock, I would come suddenly on 
a large party, seated in a circle like neighbours met 
together for the pleasure of an evening gossip. The 
rapidity with which they would decamp oli such oc- 
casions, and the easy way in which they climbed up the 
steepest rocks, were astonishing. All that I had seen of 
the gambols of a captive •monkey in 'England was as 
nothing compared with the feats or these free denizens. 
They would never -stop or make tiny noise until they 
reached a position where it was, impossible for man to 
follow them ; but when once there in safety, they would 
face about, mew and chatter, and make the strangest 
grimaces, as if mocking me. If I threw stones at them, 
they would draw themselves into holes or shelter then> 
selves behind some projection of the rock. After the 
flight of the stone they would re-appear, and scream 
and make faces anew ; but as soon as they saw me 
stoop to pick up another stone, or raise my hand to 
throw one I might have already in it, they would again 
withdraw to their defences as quick as thought. Once, 
and only once, I succeeded in hitting a sturdy old fellow 
that seemed the patriarch of the tribe; he set up a 
curious, shrill, wild cry, which was echoed by his 
Companions, and the next moment they all crossed a 
nigher ridge of the rock, which in many places is nar* 
rower than a camel's back, and took refuge in the lofty 
perpendicular cliffs that rise above Catalan Bay. They 
seemed to be exceedingly, gregarious. I do not re- 
member having ever met with them except in rather 
large parties. 

In the earlier part of my residence in the garrison, — 
in the months of May and June,— I used often to sur- 
prise these monkey parties when they had their young 
ones with them. These were the most interesting cir- 
cumstances under which the animals could be seen. 
Their maternal affection was exemplary. The moment 
they were surprised, the old ones would take up each 
her little one on her back and so scamper up the rocks, 
never stopping, as at other times, to chatter and make 
faces, but running on until far beyond sight or reach. 
They carried their young precisely in the fashion which 
schoolboys call pick-a-back. However they might be 
surprised and close pressed, they never forgot their 
offspring in their own safety, or retired from the spot 
without their little ones. On one occasion J saw the 
curiosity and turn for imitation, which are so cha- 
racteristic cf all their tribe, very amusingly exemplified. 
The telegraph, which is situated on one of the loftiest 
points of the rock, was busily at work, announcing the 
approach of some ships from the Atlantic. On a ridge 
of the rock, at a short distance, a party of about a dozen 
monkeys had assembled ; they sat all with their faces 
turned towards the signal-house, as though they under- 
stood, or were trying to understand, the mystic signs ; 
and every now and then, as the arms of the telegraph 
•waved up and down, some of them waved their arms in 
the same manner, as if mimicking or repeating the 
motion of the machine. 

Some of these animals are always to be seen on the 
front of the rock ; but their favourite resorts and strong- 
holds are at the back of the rock, which, except for a few 
hundred feet on turning Europe Point at the south, and 
a much shorter space by Catalan Bay at the north) con- 
sists of towering cliffs which drop almost perpendicularly 
into the Mediterranean, and afford no footing to man 
either from above or below. From this place of safety 
they art, however, frequently driven by the levanters, or 
strong easterly gales, which beat against the back of the 
rock with furious violence, wuA soaeetiiaea gontinue for 



several days. On these occasion* gfeat fiumbtfl df 
them are to be seen ; as the monkeys, for shelter, always 
cross the ridges of the rock and come to its front, or 
western and more accessible face. Meantime a dirty- 
grey cloud» or haze, gathers round the summits of the 
roek and rests motionless upon them, while everywhere 
else the atmosphere is clear. Now, in local parlance, 
" Old Gib has got his night-cap on," and whenever this 
is the case, and Uie monkeys u are all to the west," 
Gibraltar is a sad place to abide in. I haVe felt the 
famed sirocco wind in ail its violence on the coast of 
Sicily and at Malta, but never suffered half so much 
from it as from the stifling easterly winds at Gibraltar. 

In my time, the soldiers of the garrison used to say 
that the monkeys hated the sight of a red coat, and 
often threw or rolled stones down upon them as they" 
Were standing sentinel at the sides of the rock. If the^ 
did so, it was only fair retaliation, for the soldiers (par- 
ticularly the new comers and young recruits) made it 
one of their principal amusements to hunt and annoy, 
and lay snares for the poor monkeys. 

It is scarcely necessary to describe the Gibraltar 
monkey* as it is the same as the Barbary species, Which 
is one of those most frequently exhibited in our streets 
by the strolling Italian boys. The size of the body is 
about equal to that of an Isle of Skye terrier,— perhaps 
rather larger. The colour is a sort of dirty fawn. It 
has no tail. The species is supposed to be found only 
in Barbary, Gibraltar, and Egypt. 



EXPENDITURE OF A GREAT ABBEY IN ANCIENT 
TIMES. 

Thk Harleian Manuscript, No. 647, in the British Museum, 
gives precise information concerning the weekly as well a» 
annual expenditure of the Abbey of St. Edmor.dsbury in 
the 14th year of Edward I. It presents an account of the 
necessaries required to support 8" monks, 111 serving-men, 
11 chaplains, the nuns of Thetford. arid visitors to the 
monastery. It opens with an account of the weekly charges 
of the bakehouse and brewery : — 1 GJ seattis (that is ? quarters) 
and 2 bushels of wheat, at 8x. the seam, 4/. 3«.*94. ; I*} 
scams of barley malt, at 4*. per seam, 50*. ; 32 seams ef 
oaten roalr, at 3*. the seam, 4/. 16*. ; wages of the servants 
in the brewery and bakehouse, each week, 4s. 4{d. ; fuel, 
26*. &d. The total of weekly charge, 13/. V\d. t giving an 
annual total of 678/. 1* 2d. 

Exclusive of this charge for the monastery, there is a 
separate account in the bakehouse and brewery for the 
abbot; the revenues of the abbot and convent, in all the 
greater monasteries, being kept separate, and the entases 
for the support of each detached from the other. The 
weekly expenditure in the abbot's department comes so 
near in amount (1 1/. 5*. 9d.) to that for the convent gene- 
rally, that it seems necessary to add the remark that, as a 
parliamentary baron, the abbot was obliged to maintain & 
targe retinue : he had his town residence and his Country 
seats, and all the visitors to the monastery who held rank 
in society were necessarily his guests. 

In the kitchen of the monastery, 10/. per week was ex- 
pended on flesh, tab, eggs, cheese and other minor articles, 
making a total annual expenditure under thii head of $ M., 
besides the purveyance of the colarer, which consisted 
chiefly in the provision for Lent, du.ing tho continuance of 
which his expenditure was for herrings, 25/. ; for 4 seams 
of pulse for gruel, 32*. ; for 6 seams of bean.), 30*. : honey, 
61. 6df. ; nuts, 13*. 4d. ; salt, 66*. 8rf. ; 42 reams of peas, fbr 
pottage through the year, 11/.; total annual expense in 
the eaUarar's department, 43/ 8#. %d I fore the abbots 
portion comes in again ; the weekly expenditure of whioh 
was, 6 carcasses and three quarters of oxen, at 4$. tho ax* 
27i.; 15 porkers and a half, at 3*. the porker, 46*. fid. : 
31 geese, at 2d. each. 5*. 2d. ; 1 55 hens, at Id. each, 13*. I id. 
The weekly expenditure in the abbot's kitchen amounted to 
4f. 15*. 7d* making an annual Utal, exclusive of fuel, of 568/. 
4*. 94. The annual east of fuel for the kitchen, te both the 
ebfeot and the eonrent, was 30/. A charge of 60/. then 
somes for the provender of the horses of the prior, cellarer* 
s*t ketfitaUer; e*d another 60A is charged for pjttaaee* 



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fBlsertterdtas, rebes, horses, and other necessary expenses of 
ike cellarer. All these various accounts make the grow annual 
expenditure of the abbey, as far as iu affairs in the kitchen, 
the refectory, and tho convent stables are concerned, 
amount to 1407/. U*. l ld. This sum seems to have co- 
rered the maintenance as well as the hospitality of the 
convent in ordinal*)* times ; but, on particular occasions, a 
ratal visit broke much deeper into the abbey revenues. 
The entertainment of King Richard II. and his queen at 
this abbey in 1 383, alone cost the monastery eipht hundred 
marks : and King Henry VI., in 1433, stayed there from 
Christmas to St George* Day. 

The large sums expended upon oaten malt may appear 
not very intelligible ; particularly as the beer brewed from 
it was not likely to be made a drink of choice by the convent. 
But the immense number of servants and retainers who 
were regularly supported, added to those who came with 
visitors of rank, the constant access of the poor to the 
convent, and the recollection that travellers in former times 
resorted to monasteries instead of inns, will easily account 
Jar this branch of the expenditure 



at once, and from forty to fifty pins are with facility pro- 
duced in a minute by each of the 100 machines which 
are completed, and in constant operation at the works. 
As a more particular detail of the process would net be 
well understood without engravings, we shall only 
further state that the works, with the present number 
of machines, are capable of producing upwards of two 
tons of pins weekly, or, stating the amount numerically, 
3,240,000 pins daily, 19,440,000 weekly, supposing all 
the machines to be in operation twelve hours daily. It 
is stated that altogether twenty millions of pins are daily 
manufactured in this country for home consumption and 
for the foreign market. 



THE NEW PIN. 
Taiftt are few things which more strikingly exemplify 
the high point of civilization to which this country has 
attained than the amount of capital continually expended, 
the inventive talent exercised, and the powerful agencies 
employed, aa the remedy of exceedingly small evils, and 
the attainment of equally minute objects of convenience. 
This remark cannot perhaps find a better illustration 
than in " The New Pin with an immoveable Solid Head." 
The defect in the old pin, which it is the object of the 
present improvement to remedy, is, that the head of the 
pin being separately spun and then put on, was liable 
to be detached by the pressure of the thumb. The 
principle of the improvement consists in this, — that the 
need being formed of the same piece with the body of 
the pin, the inconvenience attending its slipping is 
effectually prevented. This is the minute improvement 
in a minute article, the accomplishment of which has 
cost the patentees several years of attentive application, 
and the expenditure of a large capital, according to their 
own statement, which, when the extent and character 
of the machinery employed are considered, there can be 
no reason to doubt. At the same time, it must be taken 
in connexion with this improvement, that the patent 
pin is altogether produced by machinery, instead of 
partly by hand processes. " The Patent Solid-headed 
Pin-works " are situated about a mile from Stroud, on 
the Bath and Birmingham road. The principal building 
consists of five floors, each of them one hundred feet in 
length, and completely filled with machinery. A large 
iron water-wheel, on which a stream acts with a power 
equal to that of forty horses, gives motion to all the 
mechanical apparatus, which is so ingeniously con- 
structed as to perform every essential operation for con- 
verting a coil of wire into the perfect pin with scarcely 
any noise and little apparent effort. Upon the old system, 
this comparatively insignificant article had to go through 
fifteen or sixteen hands before it was finished ; but this 
curious machine effects the whole without manual assist- 
ance, or any extraneous aid whatever ; for, the wire 
being placed on a reel, and the machine set in motion, 
all the mechanical combinations, so numerous and dis- 
similar in their movements, are simultaneously perform- 
ing their various functions with a rapidity and precision 
truly surprising. While one portion of the ppa- 
ratus is drawing out and straightening the wire, and 
cutting it off at the required length, another combination 
is pointing and polishing the pin, and another compress- 
ing a portion of the wire into dies to form a perfect and 
neat round solid head. The various movements are 
completely at command, and susceptible of instant 
alteration and adjustment to pins of any length, and 
heads of any form, while the machine is working at its 
ordinary speed. Each machine operates on four wires 



Peter the Wild Boy.— Since we gave an account of Peter 
the Wild Boy, in No. 70 of the « Penny Magazine/ we have 
received some further interesting information from a lady, a 
member of whose family knew this remarkable being. 
Peter was first found in the act of sucking a cow, in the 
woods of Hanover. Queen Caroline, who greatly interested 
herself about Peter, was very desirous of having him edu- 
cated, and employed various masters to teach him to speak. 
After the Queen s death Government allowed a pension for 
him, and he was placed with Thomas Fen, a respectable 
fanner in Hertfordshire. He was accustomed in the spring 
of the vear to wander away, subsisting on the green buds of 
trees, &c. His adventure in Norfolk, during one ef these 
excursions, has been related, to which we may add that he 
was saved from the consequences of his supposed contumacy 
by some person reading m a newspaper an advertisement 
describing the missing Wild Boy. To prevent the recur- 
rence of such serious adventures, he was provided with a 
brass collar, on which was inscribed " Peter the Wild Boy, 
Broadway Farm, Berkhampstead." When Peter was angry, 
he never attempted to strike or use his hands in any way, 
but always endeavoured to bite. Pleasure he expressed by 
kissing the object that excited his admiration. When 
pleased he would also often dance about, shaking his brass 
collar, and making a humming noise which he intended for 
singing, but in which it was difficult to trace an air. Paint- 
ing delighted him, and he would immediately kiss any ob- 
ject that was of vivid colours. He was passionately fond ef 
music, and would endeavour to enter tne room where any 
kind of music was performing, jumping and dancing to it. 
We have already described the extent of his vocabulary, 
to which he afterwards added " Horn Hen " (Tom Fen), 
intended for the name of the farmer whom he recognised as 
his master. Though quite harmless, Peter was sometimes 
sullen, and would never work if desired to do so : but, if 
nothing were said to him, he would often assist in the farm 
and do more work than three other men. He usually 
had bread and milk for supper, and as soon as he had 
taken it he always went up to bed ; so that if he was wished 
out of the way, some bread and milk was given to him, and 
when he had finished it he would immediately go off to bed, 
even though it were still broad daylight. Peter eould live 
on the simplest fare, but he much liked anything sweet, and 
any kind of confectionary. There is an anecdote of his 
having made his way into a room where all the sweet things 
were laid out. that were prepared for a grand f8te given to 
Lord Chatham ; and when the second course was oaUed for, 
Peter was discovered, with a large bowl, in which he had 
mixed pastry, jellies, creams, and other niceties, employed, 
quite to his own satisfaction, in eating the whole collection 
with his hands. Peter was capable of very sincere affection ; 
for he became attached in a very extraordinary manner to 
the farmer who succeeded Tom Fen in the charge of him ; 
and, when this person died, he went to his bed-side, raised 
his hands, and endeavoured to awaken him ; but when he 
found his efforts unavailing, ho went down stairs and seated 
himself by the chimney. What his ideas of death were, 
cannot be known ; but he refused his food and pined away, 
till in a few days he actually died of giief,— for he never had 
any illness. 



%• Tta OMoe of tU Society for th« Diffnsion of UWol Kovwledg* b a 

59, Lincola's Inn KiehU. 

LONDON .—CHARLKS KNIGHT, 22, LUDOATB STRUT. 



Fitetti by William Clowm, D«Im SttMt 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[January 11, 1834. 



THE CHINESE JUNK. 

{From a Correqxmdeni.) 



[Chinese Junk.] 



Op the many variously-shaped vessels in which men 
peril their lives and fortunes on the boisterous main, 
those of China, called junks, are among the most re- 
markable, as well as the most frail. They nevertheless 
make long voyages in their commercial intercourse with 
the Phillipine, Molucca, and other islands of the Indian 
Archipelago, also to Java, the Malay peninsula, and 
the coasts of Siam and Cochin China. In crossing the 
China seas, they always take advantage of the mon- 
soons, as from their bulk and light draught of water 
they are ill calculated to make way against the wind ; 
but these same reasons operate in assisting their velocity 
with favourable winds. Although they do not appear 
well adapted to withstand heavy seas, yet the fishermen 
who abound along the coast, and whose vessels are the 
only homes for themselves and families, willingly brave 
very bad weather in the pursuit of their calling — and 
owing probably to their buoyancy it seldom occurs that 
any founder. 

To the eye they present a large unsightly mass, 
bearing, however, a singular and striking resemblance 

Vou III. 



to those of our own country about two centuries ago ; 
with a great sheer like a half-moon, and their lofty 
poops and prows, as may be seen by comparing the 
above sketch with that of the " Harry Grace a Dieu." 
They are frequently 300 and 400 tons, and sometimes 
as much as S00 ; their rigging is of the simplest kind, 
consisting of two or three large masts composed of a 
single piece of timber, much stouter in proportion than 
European masts, on which traverse large square Bails, 
which are increased according to the size of the vessel, 
but incumber never exceeding three. These sails arc 
of a^M or straw matting, with stout bamboos at in* 
tervaflRf two to two and a -half feet, extending horizon- 
tally along the surface ; and to either extremity of these • 
bamboos are attached lines for the purpose of adjusting 
the sails to the wind, and when it is desired to reduce 
(or reef) the sails, they are rolled up from the bottom 
by as many of these spaces as are thought necessary. 
The anchors are of the rudest construction, the material 
is always of wood weighted with immense stones lashed 
about, unprovided with a stock across to insure its 

C 



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falling on the ground so as to take held, and it appears 
to be indebted for the performance of its office more to 
its vU inertia than to its mechanical construction. 

Among other peculiar ties, is the custom of paintteg a 
large eye on each sid* of the bow, the Chinese very 
pertinently asking, " ] low can ship see, suppose he no 
hab eye? n This pra tice also obtains at Malta, and in 
other places, though 1 believe not for the same reasons 
as that given in China. Large jujks generally carry 
two long oars projecting r orward, h zing the appearance 
t*f the antenna In insects . their p rpose is to accelerate 
the evolution of turning the vera l round. The hold is 
divided into compartments by partitions of stout plank, 
the seams bein^ caulked with a cement of lime and oil, 
which becon es exceedingly hard when dry — this ar- 
rangement may have its advantages in vessels of such 
frail construction, conducing not only to the good con- 
dition of the merchandize, but also to the safety of the 
whole — each compartment thus becoming an indepen- 
dent vessel, which might be filled with wate without 
damage to the cargo in the rest. The rudri r projects 
from the stern similarly to that of a Londor barge, and 
is generally perforated with holes, or bu it of lattice- 
work — it is guided by ropes passing from it along each 
aide of the vessel's quarter. The co.npass is shut up in 
a small bowl with a quantity of sanfl in its bottom, in 
which are stuck perfumed matches when an offering is 
intended to be made to the " Deity of the Sea." To 
this divinity, also, an altar, well stored with trinkets, 
matches, and coloured wax-candles, is erected at the 
extremity of the cabin, which is very small, and round 
it are the berths of the crew, just large enough to con- 
tain their persons — each berth has a mat and a hard- 
stuffed cushion for a pillow. They generally embark 
in great numbers, and all the crew appear to take an 
equal interest and share in the conducting of the vessel ; 
they do not receive a fixed salary, but have a portion of 
the profit accruing from the voyage or service performed. 
All their fluids, water, spirits, &c, are contained in jars, 
and their solids are packed in cases or pail-shaped tubs, 
— the Chinese never putting a second head into a 
cask ; whether this arises from ignorance or obstinacy 
I cannot say, but it is certain that a cask closed at 
both ends is never seen in China. 



VOLCANIC ISLAND OFF THE SOUTH COAST 
OF SICILY. 

Most of our readers will probably remember the ac- 
counts published in the newspapers some time since, of 
a volcano that suddenly rose from the bosom of the sea, 
opposite to Sicily, and which, after having attained the 
size of a considerable island, was rapidly washed away 
by the waves of the sea from which it rose, and at length 
totally obliterated. 

Through the kindness of John Wright, Esq., an 
intelligent merchant of Glasgow, who has resided long 
in Sicily and Naples, we are enabled to give a descrip- 
tion of this extraordinary island. Mr. Wright happened 
to be in Sicily at the time the sub-marine eruption took 
place, (on the 12th of July, 1831,) and with laudable 
curiosity determined to repair to the spot. To this end 
he hired a boat on the 24 th of August, (forty-three days 
after the first appearance of the island,) at Sc^ea, on 
the southern coast of Sicily, which was the towJpearest 
to the volcano, and with an artist, who made arawings 
en the spot, a physician, and some other Sicilian gen- 
tlemen, went in quest of the object that was then exciting 
so much astonishment and terror. 

The party left the shore of Sciacca at nine o'clock in 
the evening. There was a beautiful bright moon, and 
they were further favoured by a gentle breeze blowing 
ftom knd in the direction of the island. After some 
flow* Mr, Wright and his companions went to ftteeft 



leaving the easy care of the boat to the sailors. They 
i were awakened a little before sunrise by explosions that 
warned them they were near the volcano, and rising, 
they saw, at a short distance, two hills surmounted by a 
column of smoke. The curious island of Pantellaria, 
which has evidently been thrown up in the same manner 
by a tub-marine eruption, though it is now inhabited 
and partially cultivated, was seen in the distance to the 
west Tbey calculated that they had sailed about thirty- 
six miles, and that the new island was about equi-distant 
from Sciacca and Pantellaria. It had arisen from a 
sand- bank, which was previously covered (though not 
with deep water) by the sea, and well known to mariners 
by the name of " Nerita." This sand-bank itself, which 
extends for some distance, is probably the result of some 
anterior volcanic convulsion. 

Mr. Wright and his friends proceeded eagerly towards 
the island, when, just as they were within a few oars' 
length of it, the f in rose in all his glory behind the dark 
crater, revealing its form, and shining through the dense 
smoke with sir gular effect. They began their exami- 
nation at the north-west of the volcano, where it pre- 
sented the form of a round hill, rising about 1 20 feet 
above the level of the sea. They were deterred from a 
close approach by a thick cloud of white smoke which 
issued from the side of the hill on a level with the 
aea. They rowed the boat round the island, keeping 
about twenty feet from it, until the) came to the north- 
east point, where they found that the bland was some 
feet higher than at the part previously examined, and that 
there was a niece of flat sandy shore which seemed to 
afford a good landing-place. As, however, nobody had 
hitherto set foot on this new production of nature, some 
apprehensions as to the safety of so doing, or whether 
they would not be swallowed up, were entertained by 
the Sicilians. After some minutes of hesitation one of 
the sailors, encouraged by Mr. Wright, leaped ashore 
and found tolerably firm footing. Mr. Wright imme- 
diately followed him. The sailor, who had proved him- 
self the most adventurous of his comrades, was yet 
reluctant to go to any distunce from the boat, or to 
ascend the side of the volcano. Mr. Wright advanced 
a few steps alone, and perceiving some bright yellow 
stones that had very much the appearance of gold, he 
picked up some of them, and cried out, " Run ! run ! 
my friends ! here is gold ! here is gold ! " This tempta- 
tion was irresistible — every man left the boat ; or, to use 
the words of one of the Sicilian gentleman of the party, 
whoae memoranda are before us, they " all leaped on 
shore, like so many devils careless of life, through the 
avidity to obtain part of the treasure." (Here we may 
as well remind our readers that the Sicilians and Nea- 
politans are commonly inclined to believe that volcanos 
sometimes throw out gold. In No. 2 of the ' Penny 
Magazine,' a communication from a correspondent, who 
was at Naples at the time, informs us that the Neapo- 
litans collected some of the matter ejected by Mount 
Vesuvius during the great eruption of 1822, expect- 
ing to find gold in it.) Mr. Wright's companions were 
soon undeceived ; but finding that they nowhere sank 
much deeper than the ankle in the sandy soil, they 
readily followed his example, and climbed up to the ridge 
of the island at the part where it was lowest. Having 
reached this point with some difficulty, they stood on 
the edge of a crater that was flanked on either side by 
a cone or peak of superior elevation. The form of the 
crater was very irregular — within it, and forty-five feet 
below its Kp or edge on which they stood, and nearly on 
a level with the surface of the sea, they saw two small 
lakes of boiling-water. One of these lakes was about 
one hundred and fifty feet in drcu inference, the ether 
not more than thirty. In the first the cotntr of the 
water was a h>ht yellow, in the second a tcddiafc-yefbw ; 
they bubbled here mi there md enHtad vapour* 



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The roaster of the boat (a Maltese) boldly climbed 
to the top of the highest cone — an exploit not performed 
without danger, as on that part the island descended 
almost perpendicularly to the sea, whose waves had 
already begun to destroy it, and occasionally carried 
awav large masses at a time. 

Mr. Wright and his party returned to the strip of 
beach where the boat was secured, and were amusing 
themselves by examining and collecting the curious 
ashes, lapille, and stones which were there deposited, 
when a rumbling noise and smoke, accompanied by a 
most pungent sulphureous smell, arose from the crater, 
and compelled them to embark. They rowed round to 
the south-eastern point of the island, where they found 
a strip of beach like that which they had left, and lying 
on it, half dead and stupefied, a fine large pescespada, 
or sword fish. This they secured and carried back with 
them to Sciacca, where they found it weighed upwards 
of sixty pounds English. The fate of the fish must 
have arisen from its coming too near the hot and 
contaminated water which on all sides surrounded the 
island to a greater or less distance. Indeed, when the 
party started from this point to continue the circumnavi- 
gation of the island, they were obliged to keep nearly 
a mile at sea, to steer clear of a new submarine crater 
which was forming there, the erruptions from which had 
changed the colour of the waves from blue to deep 
yellow, and, for the space of half a mile, made them foam 
and roar in a fearful manner. Even at the distance at 
which they kept their boat, the air was so charged 
with sulphur that it almost suffocated them. As they 
doubled this, the south-west extremity, they saw im- 
mense clouds of smoke, now black, now white, rising 
as it were from a rent in the bosom of the sea, and 
attaining an elevation of 2000 feet. 

Having gone entirely round the island, they ascer- 
tained that its form was circular, and that it was then 
about two miles in circumference, but evidently dimi- 
nishing every day. Besides exciting their curiosity, it 
should seem that the novel appearance of this volcano 
had attracted the curiosity of a turtle dove, for as they 
landed to examine one point, a bird of that gentle 
species saluted them from the summit of the island with 
its melancholy note, and then disappeared. 

On the 27th of October, 1931, the steam-packet 
" Franceso Primo " left Naples expressly to visit this 
volcano, which the Neapolitans had named " LTsoIa 
Ferdinandea." Among the passengers was an English 
gentleman, who made some drawings and measurements, 
and described the island as it then was. From an 
examination of these, it results that during only two 
months which had elapsed since Mr. Wright's visit, the 
island had been reduced to one-seventh of its circum- 
ference as measured at that visit. Peaks and elevations 
had sunk into the sea, — there only remained one, which 
was much lowered, and no longer retained the appear- 
ance of a volcanic crater. This rose in the centre of the 
island ; it was an irregular cone in shape, and composed 
of f\ne^ heavy, black sand, and very friable scoriae. All 
the rest of the island was a plane whose level scarcely 
surmounted the superficies of the sea. With the least 
wind the waves washed over all this level part, which, like 
the hill, was composed of black sand and scoria?, mixed 
here and there with fragments of lava that seemed to 
contain a good deal of iron. No smoke then issued 
from any part of the island, but wherever the visiters 
dug a little in the plain, a strong heat with smoke 
escaped. There, remained, however, a small lake, the 
waters of which seemed, from the steam resting on 
their surface, to be still boiling. These waters had 
changed their colour from yellow to a brownish black. 
They were ascertained to be sea-waters, mixed with 
sulphur and other volcanic components, from which they 
WW easily disengaged. In a direction opposite to this 



small lake, and at the distance of a few feet from th 
shore of the island as it then was, the sea for a eertain 
space was covered with a bright blue oleous fluid, which 

Sroduced precisely the same tranquillizing effect that oil 
oes when thrown upon the waves. This fluid was, 
in all probability, pctroleitm, like that which is found 
floating on the surface of the Bay of Naples, near the 
roots of Mount Vesuvius, and in the neighbourhood of 
most volcanos. 

The western side of the central mount was covered 
with volcanic ashes and saline efflorescence, the white 
colour of which contrasted in a curious manner with the 
dingy black hue of all the rest of the cone. As the 
party from the steam-boat ascended the mount, they 
found two wooden boards stuck deeply in the sand. 
On the first of these were recorded the names of two 
members of the French Academy, Messrs. Jonville and 
Constant Prevot ; and on the second the name of an 
Austrian brig and the name of her commander, who 
had all visited the island since Mr. Wright's expedition. 
It was evident to every body that the flat part' of the 
island was rapidly disappearing, and that when the sea 
had destroyed this, the mount remaining exposed to the 
direct fury of the waves could not, from the lightness 
and friability of the materials which composed it, long 
resist their attack. It was therefore concluded that in 
a few months the island would no longer exist ; and in 
fact, a very few months afterwards, when Mr. Wright 
sailed across this part of the Mediterranean, the sea 
between Sciacca and Pantellaria was perfectly clear, ' 
and there remained not the least vestige of the island. 
He, however, had not the opportunity of examining to 
what dejrree the detrition of the volcano had affected 
the sandbank beneath. 

Whichever way the traveller turns on the coasts of 
Sicily he meets with melancholy evidences of the tre- 
mendous effects of volcanic action. The city of Sciacca 
itself, from which Mr. Wright set out to visit the new 
volcano, is surrounded by hot springs, petroleum pits, 
and caverns of sulphur which still smoke ; and about 
five centuries ago it was entirely destn yed by an erup- 
tion. Though the town has been rene\ ed, it has never 
recovered its former prosperity. Its po ulation, which 
was 60,000 at the time of the awful catastrophe, now 
scarcely amounts to 18,000. 



IMPROVED SYSTEM OF BEE MANAGEMENT, 
Thbab is no branch of rural economy connected with 
more agreeable associations than that of bee manage- 
ment. The proverbially industrious habits of the insect, 
and its extreme ingenuity in the construction of its 
domicile, and the deposition of its treasures, are such as 
to excite the admiration of the most unobservant. The 
common necessity of destroying the stock, in order to 
obtain the produce of their labours, has been always 
matter of regret. Many plans have been hitherto 
devised for the purpose of obtaining the honey without 
the destruction of the bees, but they have only been 
attended with partial success. The object has, however, 
been latterly and more perfectly attained by Mr. Nutt, 
a practical apiarian of Lincolnshire, whose system of 
management has given this branch of rural economy an, 
importance and value of which it was not before con- 
sidered susceptible, both in the greater productiveness 
of the bees, and the much superior quality of the honey. 
The first part of Mr. Nutt's plan of operation is to 
leave the hive, into which the stock is introduced, un- 
touched. When it is filled with honey (the contents of 
which are to be reserved for the use of the bees), the 
capacity of the hive is increased, by the addition of 
another box to the side, communicating with the hive 
by apertures, which give free admission to the bees At 
all parts of the box, 

a 



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The next important object in Mr. Nutt's system is to 
ensure a regulated and uniform temperature in this 
portion of the hive, without diminishing the temperature 
of that which contains the stock. The ventilation 
necessary for this purpose is effected by the means of a 
perforated tin tube, extending down to a considerable 
distance from the top into the hive, and connected with 
an aperture at the bottom, which may be partly or 
wholly closed by a tin slide, thus modifying the 
circulation df the air and consequent degree of tempera- 
ture. The temperature of this side box, which is indi- 
cated by a thermometer introduced into the tube, ought 
to be 70°, which is the natural temperature of the 
working hive ; but, in that which contains the stock, a 
temperature of 90° is necessary, as well for the incuba- 
tion of the queen bee, as the maturity of the young. 
The parent hive is, then, as well the residence of the 
queen bee as the nursery of the young, whilst the side 
boxes are but additional storehouses for the reception of 
the superfluous honey, which may be taken away with- 
out impoverishing the stock, or robbing them of their 
winter sustenance. 

When the thermometer placed in the side box rapidly 
rises to 90° or 100°, the necessity of again providing 
the bees with fresh room is indicated; and this is 
effected by establishing another box on the opposite 
side of the hive. The bees, finding an increase of room, 
will readily recommence their labours in this new apart- 
ment. 

Then follows, in Mr. Nutt's system, the operation of 
separating the bees from this second hive. This is 
effected by the ventilator, by which the internal tempe- 
rature of the hive maybe reduced to that of the external 
atmosphere ; and when, on the approach of night, the 
bees, recoiling from the cool air, go back into the middle 
box, the connexion between the two maybe closed, and 
the full hive withdrawn, without the imprisonment or 
destruction of a single labourer. The same arrange- 
ments are to be again renewed, as the bees continue 
their successful labours. In this system no provision 
id made for swarming, which cannot occur under this 
arrangement, the emigration of a part of the stock being 
only occasioned by a want of room in which the bees 
may pursue their labours. 

The honey furnished under this system of manage- 
ment is found to be far superior both in quality and 
quantity to that obtained under any other arrangements. 
The honey and wax are as white as refined sugar. This 
superiority in quality it owes as well to the modified 
temperature at which the bees secrete their products, as 
to its total exemption from all extraneous animal and 
vegetable matters, and, in particular, from the pollen or 
bee-bread, which is taken in considerable quantities into 
the stock-hive for the support of the young. This 
superiority of the honey is only equalled by the quantity 
of the supply : the usual annual supply from one stock 
is about one hundred-weight of honey ; whilst, in the 
course of one season, Mr. Nutt has procured the large 
quantity of 296 lbs. This increase in quantity is owing 
to the excellent disposition of the arrangements, by which 
the industrious efforts of the bees are never retarded, nor 
their strength weakened at the time when the fruits and 
flowers most abound from which their treasures are 
obtained. 

Thrushes. — A Correspondent mentions that thrushes get 
at the snails on which they' feed by taking them into their 
beak, and hammering the shells against a stone until they 
are broken. He states that a neighbour of his brought up 
a thrush from the nest and kept it many years. It was so 
tame as to be allowed to fly about the room, when, though 
it had never seen any other thrush, its chief amusement 
was to take a silver thimble in its beak, and endeavour, with 
great earnestness and perseverance, to break it, as the wild 
bird breaks the shells of snails, by hammering it violently 
against any hard substance, • 



LOUVAIN. 



Louvain, a town of South Brabant in the Netherlands, 
is one of those cities which are now greatly declined 
from their ancient prosperity and importance; and 
which continue to indicate the difference by very mag- 
nificent public buildings, and by an extent which the 
existing population cannot occupy. 

The city makes a very doubtful claim to Julius Caesar 
for its founder; but there are no distinct notices of it 
until the year 885. It is certain, however, that it had 
attained such great prosperity about the commencement 
of the fourteenth century, as to be considered the richest 
and most commercial city of the Low Countries. It then 
contained upwards of 200,000 inhabitants, including 
4000 houses of clothiers. There is a tradition, that 
when the operatives left their work, it was notified by 
the great bell, that mothers might withdraw their chil- 
dren from the streets lest they should be trampled to 
death in the throng of eager passengers. In 1380 the 
workmen revolted against the Duke of Brabant, and 
among their acts on that occasion it is recorded that 
they threw seventeen of the numerous magistrates of 
the city from the windows of the then existing town-hall. 
This rebellion led to the emigration of great numbers 
of the weavers to this country, and they may be con- 
sidered as having laid the foundation of our woollen 
manufacture. This affair seems to have given a blow 
to the prosperity of Louvain which it never entirely 
recovered. At present the town is much decayed, and 
the population is not supposed to exceed 25,000. The 
most important article of industry is beer, of which 
considerable quantities are -annually exported : there are 
also from ten to twelve lace manufactories. 

In its prosperous state, Louvain was not only dis- 
tinguished for its wealth but its learning. The cele- 
brated University was founded, in 1426, by John IV., 
Duke of Brabant. It produced several eminent men, 
and was endowed by the Popes with high privileges. 
It had forty-three colleges, a fine library, a botanical 
garden, and an anatomical theatre. In the sixteenth 
century it contained not less than 6000 students. 
Having become extinct during the French revolution 
it was restored as a lyceum, and after the separation of 
Belgium from France was re-established as an univer- 
sity. The present number of students does not exceed 
580. 

The magnificent building which is represented iu our 
wood-cut was erected in the middle of the fifteenth 
century.' The first stone was laid iff 1448, and it was 
finished in 1463. The cost is stated, in the description 
of Louvain in the Flemish language, to have been 
82,900 guilders, about equal to 3000Z, — a large sum in 
those days. The engraving will furnish a more accurate 
notion of the exterior of this fine town-hall than any 
description. The three tiers of windows, the gallery 
above the upper tier, the lofty roof with its windows 
rising one above another, the corner towers and pin- . 
nacles, and the still higher pinnacles of the centre, are 
the most characteristic features of the edifice. The 
sculpture of the stone-work is exceedingly rich and 
elaborate. The apartments within are of fine propor- 
tions, and are richly decorated with tapestry and pic- 
tures. Altogether the Town-hall of Louvain in one of 
the most interesting monuments of a period when a 
large and liberal expenditure upon objects calculated to 
elevate the taste was thought, and properly so, to be of 
public utility. While the great ecclesiastical edifices of 
England and France and the Netherlands, which were 
constructed with the object of filling the mind with 
those sublime images which belong to the service of 
religion, the other public buildings, such as the Town- 
hall of Louvain, were intended to impress the spectator 
with a feeling of respect for the dignity of the laws, and 
to associate ideas of splendour with the seat T>f justice. 



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The former commercial prosperity of Louvain justified 
this display of magnificence in the place where her rich 
burghers and magistrates arbitrated between contending 
citizens, and punished the violaters of the public peace. 
It is a monument, therefore, of those times when the 
rich and powerful inhabitants of great trading towns 



were enabled to make displays of wealth aad mag- 
nificence which might vie with the grandeur of princes ; 
— and by their collective influence and authority, often 
to resist that oppression which the feudal lords still 
exercised. Such monuments belong to the history of 
civilization. 



[Town-hall of Louvain.] 



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muu* wki npuses woo nave «*tgmea to tgi* sp »t troui 
Europe* sum) otbei puts of Greece, should be admitted lo 
vote* and deciding it in the negative, they proceeded to 
debate upon the subject of allowing such citizeu* and any 
other granger* to be present on tbe occasion : and this, was 
determined in tbe alftrmativ*. A general shout next warned 
the ntuhitude to lay themselves, down on the ground, in 
order that the successive speakers should be distinctly seeu 
and heard few the post which was assigned to thera in the 
centre ef tb# assembly. One of the citizens then reciied au 
oatbx to which every ea» qualified to vote made solemn 
response; it was to the effect that they repudiated the 
influence of all ties of kindred, briber)-, and every other cor* 



i ^it wv- vm «< ' 



cumstanees the salubrity and genial temperature of the 
Nilgherrirs* (Blue Mow******)* o»% of the principal 
branches of the western Ohauts* seems nrst to have 
suggested the idea oi tbrmiay establishments hi the 
mountain regions te> which the sick and convalescent 
might repair. Another such establishment has been 
formed at Laudfru?* ifc the Himalaya mountains ; and 
we believe there are others. The result has been found 
fully to answer the expectations which ted to such esta- 
blishments ; and not onfy has a great waste of time and 
money been prevented, but the necessity has in a great 



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measure ceased of exposing tfte sick to the incon- 
venience and danger of the hong and wearisome voyage 
from India to England. A correspondent has furnished 
us with an extract from a letter, written by a medical 
gentleman from the establishment in the Himalaya, 
part of which we shall lay before our readers.' It does 
not state much concerning the establishments formed 
there, but it furnishes information with regard to a re- 
gion of which little is known in this country, and not 
much even in India. 

u The place from whence I write is the first range of 
the grand chain of the Himalaya. It is in about 36° 27' 
north latitude and 78° east longitude. It was selected 
about three years since*, from its proximity to the 
plains, (seven miles off,) as the most eligible site for a 
convalescent depfit ; and experience having already 
established its sanative character, so that every spot of 
ground capable of building upon is taken up for public 
buildings. These salubrious and delightful hills had 
been fourteen years in the possession of the British 
government before the beneficial purposes to which 
they were applicable appear to have been perceived. 
The summit of Laudour is about 7800 feet above the 
level of the sea ; and, of course, every modification of 
climate from this height to the highest peak, 27,000 
feet, may be found ; but I shall more particularly speak 
of what I have myself experienced. 

** During the hottest season, which is just passed, the 
thermometer has never exceeded 67°, whereas, in the 
plains, it is rarely under 90°, in a good house, until 
October. The mean temperature here, by meteorologi- 
cal observation, is said to be 50° ; and, as there are so 
few degrees of variation in the different seasons, I 
should say it is the finest climate in the world for in- 
valids of every class. About 200 soldiers are annually 
sent hither from the different king's regiments; the 
greatest proportion of whom recover. 

" As a further proof of the benignity of this climate, 
may be adduced an abundance of every kind of game, 
such as woodcocks, partridges, pheasants, &c, all of the 
most splendid plumage, at the bottom of the dells, 
together with a great variety of deer, leopards, hyenas 
and bears, whilst the tiger is very rarely seen. All the 
European fruits thrive to great perfection ; and very 
many of them, as the apricot, currant, raspberry, &c, 
grow wild. A botanical garden promises well, even in 
its infancy ; and the gentleman in charge of it states, 
that all the plants indigenous to temperate climates 
thrive exceedingly well. Much to my surprise, these 
almost perpendicular mountains are highly cultivated, 
and, where irrigation is practicable, rice, beans, peas, 
potatoes, and every kind of eorn, are seen to flourish. 
The effect is very beautiful at a distance ; and the eye 
is in every direction relieved by groups of magnificent 
oak, walnut, and fir-trees ; and, though last, not feast 
to be admired, the rhododendron. 

" The male inhabitants of this region are a good-fea- 
tured race, but the women are perfectly hideous ; and, 
as ablution is an operation not often performed in the 
course of a life, their persons are very c Tensive from 
filth and vermin. But as a contrast to th* ♦ disgusting 
circumstances, they are a lively merry people, and suffer 
hardships and fatigue without a murmur ; hot art theft 
or murder known among them. I hate remarked 
goitres to be a very common disease, as it is, I believe, 
in all mountainous countries, particularly Switzerland 
and the Tyrol f. 

" The roads are mere footpaths in those regions* and 

* The letter is dated July 13, 1830. 

t Some of our readers may need to bs informed that goifirt are 
swellings or wens in the fore part of the throat, which are not 
incompatible with generator got* hu sJ fca . They are eery pretastftt 
among mountaineers ; and the cause is Hill laidiscost fid, UfcfUgh 
commonly attributed to the water which the pupli triuk. 



quite frightful to a person unac cu s W r ted to mountain 
travelling. But the eye soon gets accustomed to sited 
circumstances, and I now gallop about on my gfcout 
(hill pony) with as much confidence as I do on a horse 
in the plains. These animals are brought from Tatary, 
and resemble the Shetland ponies, but show a great 
deal more. blood and symmetry. They are amazingly 
sagacious, and so conscious that a false step would hurl 
them to destruction, that they manifest the utmost cau- 
tion in difficult places ; and the traveller is quite at the 
mercy of his little quadruped, and must not interfere 
with him. An accident happens occasionally, but no 
life has been lost since the establishment commenced ; 
which I account tor by the circumstance that the beast 
always inclines towards the bank when he slips. 

14 The periodical rains have now regularly set in, and 
will, os I am informed, continue until September. We 
have sometimes terrific thunder-storms with hail ; and 
in such a storm, a short time since, three of the natives 
were killed by the lightning. The weather is disagree- 
ably clamp; but the thermometer continues steady at 
67°, and never exceeds 90°,— an equability of tempera- 
ture not to be surpassed in any part of the world." 



THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. 

This powerful, intelligent, and docile animal, which in 
its unmixed state is certainly the noblest of the canine 
tribe, is a native of the country the name of which it 
bears, and may be considered as a distinct race. Its 
introduction into this country is of comparatively recent 
date ; and the fine animal known to us by the name 
of Newfoundland dog is only half-bred, and of size 
inferior to the dog in its native state, when it measures 
about six feet and a half from the nose to the extremity 
of the tail, the length of which is two feet. In its own 
country it only barks when greatly irritated, and then 
with a manifestly painful effort, producing a sound 
which is described as particularly harsh. Its exemption 
from hydrophobia in Newfoundland appears to be well 
authenticated. 

The dog is employed by the settlers as a beast of 
burthen in drawing wood from the interior to the coast. 
Three or four of them yoked to a sledge will draw two 
or three hundred weight of wood with great facility 
for several miles. In this service they are said to 
be so sagacious and willing as to need no driver 
or guide; but, ha vi rig delivered their burden, return 
without delay to the woods in the expectation of re- 
ceiving some food in recompense for their labour. We 
see, indeed, in this country, that, from the activity 
of his disposition, the Newfoundland dog delights in 
being employed ; and the pride of being useful makes 
him take uncommon pleasure in carrying in his mouth 
for miles baskets and other articles, of which, as well 
from that satisfaction as from the fidelity of his cha- 
racter, it would be dangerous for a stranger to dispute 
possession with hira. In many respects he may be con- 
sidered as a valuable substitute for the mastiff as a house 
dog. 

The Newfoundland dog is easily satisfied in his food. 
He is fond of fish, whether fresh or dried ; and salt 
meat or fish is more acceptable to him than to most 
other animals, as well as boiled potatoes and cabbage. 
When hungry, however, he has not Very strong scruples 
about appropriating such flesh or ftsf* as Ms in his 
way, or even of destroying poultry or sheep. Vo: 
the btood of the latter animal he has much appetite, 
and sucks it from the throat without feeding on the 
carcass. 

It ia wall known that the Newfoundland dog can 
swim vary fast, diva with ease, and bring things up 
from Ik* bottom of the water. Other dogs can swim, 



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but not so willingly, or so well. This superiority he 
owes to the structure of the foot, which is semi-webbed 
between the toes ; thus presenting an extended surface 
to press away the water from behind, and then collap- 
sing when it is drawn forward, previous to making the 
stroke. This property, joined to much courage, and a 
generous disposition, enables this dog to render those 
important services in the preservation of endangered 
life, of which such numerous instances are recorded, and 
of which our engraving affords an illustration. 

The following anecdotes of the Newfoundland dog 
are taken from Captain Brown's interesting * Anecdotes 
of Dogs/ 

" A Newfoundland dog, kept at the ferry-house at 
Worcester, was famous for having, at different periods, 
saved three persons from drowning ; and so fond was 
he of the water, that he seemed to consider any disincli- 
nation for it in other dogs as an insult on the species. 
If a dog was left on the bank by its master, and, in the 
idea that it would be obliged to follow the boat across 
the river, which is but narrow, stood yelping at the 
bottom of the steps, unwilling to take the water, the 
Newfoundland veteran would go down to him, amWith 
a satirical growl, as if in mockery, take him by the back 
of the neck and throw him into the stream." 

" A native of Germany, fond of travelling, was 
pursuing his course through Holland, accompanied by 
a large Newfoundland dog. Walking one evening on 
a high bank, which formed one side of a dike, or canal, 
so common in that country, his foot slippecL and he was 
precipitated into the water, and, being unable to swim, 
he soon became senseless. When he recovered his re- 
collection, he found himself in a cottage on the opposite 



side of the dike to that from which he had fallen, sur- 
rounded by peasants, who had been using the means so 
generally practised in that country for restoring anima- 
tion. The account given by the peasants was, that 
one of them returning home from his labour, observed, 
at a considerable distance, a large dog in the water 
swimming and dragging, and sometimes pushing, some- 
thing which he seemed to have great difficulty in sup- 
porting, but which he at length succeeded in getting 
into a small creek on the opposite side to that on which 
the men were. 

" When the animal had pulled what he had hitherto 
supported, as far out of the water as he was able, the 
peasant discovered that it was the body of a man. The 
dog, having shaken himself, began industriously to lick 
the hands and face of his master, while the rustic hast- 
ened across; and, having obtained assistance, the "body 
was conveyed to a neighbouring house, where the usual 
means of resuscitation soon restored him to sense and 
recollection. Two very considerable bruises, with the 
marks of teeth, appeared, one on his shoulder, the other 
on the nape of the neck ; whence it was presumed that 
the faithful animal first seized his master by the shoulder, 
and swam with him in this manner for some time ; but 
that his sagacity had prompted him to let go his hold, 
and shift his grasp to the neck, by which he had been 
enabled to support the head out of the water. It was 
in the latter position that the peasant observed the dog 
making his way along the dike, which it appeared he 
had done for a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile. 
It is therefore probable that this gentleman owed his 
life as much to the sagacity as to the fidelity of his 
dog." 



[Newfoundland Dog.] 



VjTfct Oftet rf d» fcttirty for fbe Diffusion of Uirfal Kanrbdgt it at W, LtttofaMaa FW4*- 

LONDON r-CHARLES KNIGHT, 9% VODQATE STREET. 

Printed bf WauAX Gtewxa, Mm SCra* Ualw*. 



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[January 18, 1834. 



GOLDSMITHS' HALL.' 



I v iew or uoiasmiths' iiaii.j 



The Goldsmiths' Company is one of the most ancient 
of the London Guilds, or associated crafts. It appears* 
indeed, to have originated before the time when charters 
of incorporations began to be granted to such societies 
by our kings. In the year 1180, in the reign of Henry 
II., it is recorded to have been one of those that were 
fined as adulterine companies, that is, companies that 
had no royal charter or licence ; and it may have existed 
in this state for a considerable period. It would seem 
already to have been a wealthy and important associa- 
tion, if we may judge by the amount of the fine im- 
posed upon it, which was forty-five marks, while from 
most of the others only one mark was exacted. Of the 
present London companies, that of the Goldsmiths 1 
ranks fifth in the order of precedence, the first four 
being those of the Mercers, Grocers, Drapers, and Fish- 
mongers. None of these, however, have royal charters 
so ancient as the earliest by which the Goldsmiths' 
Company was incorporated. This was granted by 
Edward III. in 1327 ; and subsequent charters, con- 
firming and extending the privileges then conferred, 
were obtained in 1394 from Richard II., and in 1462 
from Edward IY. 

Even before they were thus regularly incorporated, 
however, the Goldsmiths had apparently taken their 
place as one of the leading trades of the city. We have 
a curious evidence of this in an incident which the old 

Vol. HI. 



chronicler Fabyan relates as having happened in the 
year 1269, in the reign of Henry III. We shall give 
the. statement in the modernized version of Mai tl and, 
the historian of London : — " About the same time a 
great difference happened between the Company of 
Goldsmiths and that of the Merchant Tailors' ; and 
other companies interesting themselves on each side, the 
animosity increased to such, a degree that, on a certain 
night, both parties met (it seems by consent) to the 
number of 500 men, completely armed ; when, fiercely 
engaging, several were killed, and many wounded, on 
both sides ; and they continued fighting in an obstinate 
and desperate manner, till the sheriffs raised a great 
body of citizens, suppressed the riot, and apprehended 
many of the combatants, who were soon after tried by 
the mayor, and Laurence de Brooke, one of the king's 
justices ; and thirteen of the ringleaders being found 
guilty, they were condemned and hanged." 

Here we find, while the Merchant Tailors lead the 
one faction, the Goldsmiths are at the head of the 
other. The early opulence and consequence of the 
latter were in great part acquired by their practice of 
acting as bankers, which they did in this and other 
countries long before any regular banks were esta- 
blished. They served both to individuals and to the 
government as agents in the transference of bullion and 
coin, in making payments and obtaining loans, and in 



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Jic safe preservation and custody of treasure. From a 
notice which Malcolm has preserved in his * Londlnivn 
Redivivum,' vol. ii\, p. 414, it would appear that the 
practice of benldtig had beea continued by the gold* 
smiths in London down to a very recent period. The 
passage is extracted from * A General Description of 
AH Trades,' published in 1747, and contains the follow- ' 
ihg statement : ** Goldsmiths, the fifth company, are, 
strictly speaking, all those who make it their business 
to work up, and deal in, all sorts of wrought gold and 
silver plate; but, of late years, the title of Goldsmith 
has been generally taken to signify one who banks or 
receives, and pays running cash for others, as well as 
deals in plate ; but he whose business is altogether 
cash-keeping is* properly a Banker, who seldom takes 
apprentices, but has his business done chiefly by clerks. 
Tbi others who keep to plate only, and do not bank, 
as* distinguished by the name of Silversmiths; who 
are two-frid, — the working silversmiths, who make up 
as well as sell (though some of them do not sell at 
afl), — and die shopkeepers, many of whom do nothing 
sit the working part.' 1 The distinction here mentioned 
a* kavtng been majle between the Goldsmiths and the 
Sflversiiiiths (which, we believe, is now obsolete) can 
only have been a popular mode of expression, by which 
the principal persons in the trade were marked out 
the rest. It was the former only, we may snp- 
, who acted as bankers ; but it is certain that this 
i was net, as the writer seems to intimate, sue of 
st Introduction, though perhaps it might have beea 
revives 1 about the time to which he refers after having 
Wen into disuse. 

fa England the mystery of working in gold and 
silver has not, perhaps, been usually considered to be so 
closely aUted to the fine arts as it is or was wont to be 
in Italy and some other foreign countries. Some of 
the moat eminent of the Italian painters and sculptors, 
Benvenuto Cellini, for instance, for one, were originally 
goldsmiths ; and acquired their first acquaintance with 
the arts of design in chasing the precious metals. 

In ancient time* the goldsmitns of London resided 
in or near Cheapside, or, as it was then often called, 
West Cheap, to distinguish it from the other Cheap 
(that is, Market) Street, more to the east. The Royal 
Exchange, where all bullion was received for the king's 
coinagers, was in a street in this vicinity, which still 
bears the name of the Old Exchange. It runs down 
towards the river from the west end of Cheapside ; " but 
the very housing and office of the exchange and coin- 
age," says Maitland, " were about the midst thereof, 
south from the east gate that entereth St. Paul's 
-churchyard, and on the west side." 

It appears to have been thought, indeed, that no 
other persons except goldsmiths had a right to reside, 
or at least to open shops, in this vicinity. Maitland 
<niotes a representation addressed by the company to 
Edward III., in the first year of his reign (1327), in 
which we find this stated along with several other 
curious particulars respecting those times. It would 
scarcely, perhaps, have been suspected by many of our 
readers, that the substitution of pastes for precious 
atones, and of plated wares for genuine metal, with 
other similar tricks, had been carried to such perfection 
by the artists of the early part of the fourteenth century, 
as they would seem to have been by the following 
#*tract from this representation : — " That no private 
nerahant nor stranger heretofore were wont to bring 
into this land any money coined, but plate of silver to 
•aebaage for our coin. And that it had been also 
ordained that all who were of the goldsmiths* trade 
Went task in their shops in the High Street of Cheap ; 
wd 4bs* no «iker in jdate, nor •vessel of .gold or silver, 
iptsjAt to be -sold in the eiiy of -London, except at or in 
the Exchange, or in Cheapside among the goldsmiths, 



and that publicly ; to the end that the people of the 
said trade might inform themselves whether the seller 
came lawfully by .such vessel or not. But that now — 
many of the safd Imde sf goldsmiths kept shops iu 
obscure turnings, and by-lanes and streets, and did buy 
vessels of gold and silver secretly, without enquiring 
whether such vessel were stolen or lawfully come by ; 
and, immediately mertmg it down, did make ft into 
plate, and sell it to merchants trading beyond sea, that 
it might be exported. And so they made false work of 
gold and silver, as bracelets, lockets, rings, and other 
jewels; in which they set glass of divers colours, coun- 
terfeiting right stones, and put more alloy in the silver 
than they ought, which they sold to such as had no skill 
in such things. And that the cutlers in their work- 
houses covered tin with silver so subtilly, and with such 
slight, that the same could not be discerned and severed 
from the tin ; and by that means they sold the tin so 
covered for iae stiver, la 4s* great damage and deceit 
of the king and his people*" 

Upon this petitawn order was taken for remedying 
the several evils cosaplaned of; and among other 
things it was commsnird that none that pretended to 
be goldsmiths " shosjid keep any shops but in Cheap- 
side, that it might fee seem that +heir works were good 
and right." For a long time this regulation was 
rigidly enforced, so tfeat Cik&aoside presented a very 
gay appearance. MattLaad eulogizes in a strain of fond 
admiration, " the most beautiful frame and front of fair 
houses and shops that wore within the walls of London 
or elsewhere in England, commonly called Goldsmiths' 
Bow, betwixt Bread Street end and the Cross in 
Cheap." This cross stood at the west end of Cheapside, 
in the middle of the open apace, from which St. Martin 
le Grand branches out on the one hand and St. Pauls 
Church Yard on the other. It was one of those erected 
in 1290, by Edward i., in memory of Queen Eleanor, 
at the diiferent places whore her coffin had rested on its 
way from Herdeley in Lincolnshire, to Westminster — 
this and that at Charing being the two last of the 
number. With regard to Goldsmiths' How the histo- 
rian continues: — "The same was built by Thomas 
Wood, goldsmith, one of the sheriffs of London in the 
year 1491. It contained in number ten dwelling- 
houses and fourteen shops, all in one frame, uniformly 
built, four stories high, beautified towards the street 
with the Goldsmiths' Arms, and the likeness of wood- 
men, in memory of his name, riding on monstrous 
beasts, all which were cast in lead, richly painted over 
and gilt. The said front was again new painted and 
gilt over in the year 1594, Sir Richard Martin being 
then mayor, and keeping his mayoralty in one of them." 
In course of time, however, a few other trades-men ven- 
tured to invade the privileged district. Under the year 
1629, Maitland writes : — * l At this time the city greatly 
abounded in riches and splendour, such is former ages 
were unacquainted with : then it was beautiful to be- 
hold the glorious appearance of goldsmiths' shops in 
the South Row of Cheapside, which in a continued 
course reached from the t)ld Change to Bucklersbury, 
exclusive of four shops only of other trades in all that 
space ; which occasioned the nrivy council, on the I Sth 
of November, to make the following order:— 4 ' Foras- 
much os bis majesty hath received information of the 
unseemliness and deformity appearing in Cheapside, 
by reason that divers men of mean trades have shops 
amongst the jjoldamiths ; which disorder it is his majesty's 
express pleasure to luiie Tefofjned ; — it was therefore 
thought fit, and accordingly ordercd,that the two Lord 
Chief Justices, with such other judges as they shall 
think? meet to call untp *rjiein, shall consider what sta- 
tutes or laws. these **e tp enfo rce the goldsmiths to plant 
themselves -for tile ussdF -tWfr tradrinX^ieapsideand 
Lombard "Street, atrtl the parts t K rJ ac cr rt ^nfl thereupon 



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return certificate to th* fr>*#4 & writing with all con- 
venient expedition.** 

It may be suspected that the government, in mani- 
festing all this solicitude to keep the goldsmiths collected 
in one particular part of the city, had some object 
beyond what was avowed. Those wealthy citizens, 
with whom, in addition to their own valuable stocks, 
was deposited so large an amount of property belonging 
to other persons* were probably looked upon as the 
readiest and most natural resource from whence to 
obtain a supply of money in case of any emergency 
that might arise; and their services, whether in the 
case of a loan or an exaction, would obviously be made 
the more available by keeping them together and prevent- 
ing any of them from concealing themselves in obscure 
parts of the city. Accordingly, we find that when ship- 
money was imposed in 1635, one of the first steps 
taken by the government was to renew the prohibition 
against the dispersion of the goldsmiths. It ought not 
to be forgotten that a considerable time before Hamp- 
den made his memorable stand against this impost, a 
citizen of London, a merchant of the name of William 
Chambers, allowed himself to be thrown into prison 
rather than pay it, and would have tried the question 
of its legality in a court of law in an action against the 
lord mayor, by whom lie had been committed, if the 
judges had not refused to allow his counsel to touch 
upon that point. Nowhere, indeed, did the tax 
experience more resistance than in Loudon. The 
most peremptory orders were in consequence sent 
to the magistrates by the Privy Council to take the 
necessary measures for the collection of the assessment 
with all expedition. In some of these edicts it was 
especially commanded that the goldsmiths should be 
looked after. One dated the 24th of May, 1637, pro- 
ceeded as follows : — " Whereas by our letters of the 1 5th 
of July and last of January, 1635, we did not only 
take notice of the present remissness and backwardness 
of the then lord mayor and aldermen, in seeing our 
directions, by his Majesty's express command, forthwith 
put into execution, by bringing the goldsmiths, living 
dispersed in the city, to seat themselves either in Cheap- 
side or Lombard Street ; for which purpose we required 
that all other tradesmen should, be removed, and give 
place unto them ; but if they should obstinately refuse 
and remain refractory, then to take security of them to 
perform the same by a certain day, or, in default of 
giving such security, to commit them to prison until 
they conform themselves; notwithstanding all which, 
his Majesty has been informed that there are yet a great 
number of houses of other several trades that live both 
in Cheapside and Lombard Street. We must let your 
lordship know that, if speedy and effectual care be not 
taken by you in seeing the same duly performed, his 
Majesty will not pass it by without calling you to an 
account for it." All shops not belonging to goldsmiths 
that had been opened since the said letters in Cheapside 
or Lombard Street are then ordered to be presently 
shut up, and not permitted to be opened till further 
order from the Board. Another order, however, from 
the Star Chamber, dated the 7th of July, mentions that 
u divers tradesmen, which are not goldsmiths, do 
contemptuously open again their shops both in Cheap- 
side and Lombard Street, though they kept them for 
a while shut ;" in consequence of which it is declared 
that, if every such shop shall not forthwith be shut up 
in c?ach ward, the alderman or his deputy shall be com- 
mitted to prison by warrant from the Board. But 
even this threat did not produce the desired effect. In 
another letter from the Privy Council to the next lord 
mayor, dated the 12th of January, 1638, complaint is 
made that there are still in the two streets " at the 
least four and twenty houses that are not inhabited by 
goldsmiths ; but in some of them are one Grove, and 



one widow Hill, stationers ; one Qover^ a rrulUner • 
one Brown, a bandselter ; one Sanders, a drtigster ; 
one MedcalJe, a cook^ and one Edwards, a gmftw* 
who do, by connivance, still inhabit there, having ?6me 
part of their shops shut, and the rest open.'* ^he conneif, 
thereupon, in somewhat more civil language than had 
been before employed, pray and require the mayor V> 
acquaint the aldermen with these, facts; adding, "if 
they do not presently put our former directions in that 
particular in execution, we shall then give such further 
order as shall teach them to know that the commands 
of this Board ought not to be slighted-" l^ie, troubles, 
however, which soon after followed, arising in the over- 
throw and abolition of the Star Chamber, the privy 
council, and the throne itself, put an end for ever to 
these arbitrary and oppressive interferences ; and since 
then Cheapside and Lombard Street have been as open 
as any other part of London to tradesmen of all descrip- 
tions, and the goldsmiths, deserting for the most part 
their ancient houses, have dispersed themselves over the 
town, and opened their shops wherever they pleased. 

The Goldsmiths' Company, as is well known, have 
the privilege of assaying all gold and silver plate before 
it can be exposed for sale. This office they were 
appointed to exercise by the letters patent of Edward 
III., already quoted ;~ but not for the first time, for it if 
there commanded" that all work, ascertained to be of the 
proper fineness, shall have upon it " a stamp of a 
puncheon with a leopard's head, as of ancient time it 
hath been ordained." 

Another duty which the Goldsmiths' Company are 
called upon to perform is, to assist at what is called 
" the trial of the pix," — that is, the examination of the 
coinage, with the view of ascertaining whether it is of 
the sterling weight and purity. The pix (from the 
Latin pyxis) is the box in which the coins to be weighed 
and analyzed are contained. A very full account of the 
ceremonies observed on this occasion may be found in 
Mr. Brayley's ' Londiniana, ' vol. iv., p. 142 — 148. 
The jury of Goldsmiths summoned usually consists of 
twenty-five, and they meet in a vaulted chamber on the 
east side of the cloisters at Westminster, called the 
Chapel of the Pix. 

Our engraving presents a view of the handsome 
new Hall of this company, recently erected. It stands 
immediately behind the New Post-Office. The style is 
what is called the Italian ; and the front of the building, 
which looks to the west, is adorned with six Corinthian 
colpmns, over which is a rich entablature of the same 
order. It is built of Portland stone, and is (59 feet in 
length by 100 in breadth. It is considerably larger 
than the old hall, which stood upon the same site, $nd 
was taken down in 1829. The principal apartment, 
called the Court Room, in the former building, was cele- 
brated for the richness of its ornaments of various kinds, 
and especially for a sculptured marble chimney-piece pf 
great magnificence, with a massive bronze grate, which 
latter article alone is said to have cost, many years ago, 
above a hundred pounds. There were also some good 
pictures ; among others, an excellent one of Sir Hugh 
Middleton, the patriotic projector of die New River. 
The old hall was built a short time after the Great 
Fire. 



GIBRALTAR. 



The remarkable circumstance of such a position, one 
of the keys to a great kingdom, being held in perma- 
nent possession by a foreign nation, would alone confer 
no little interest upon Gibraltar. If we, in England, 
saw a fortress tenanted by Frenchmen or Spaniards 
frowning over the surrounding land and sea from the 
Bill of Portland, we should think it bad enough. Yet 
this would be nothing to the case of the English occu- 

Of- 



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Ration of Gibraltar. That promontory, besides its ad- 
mirable advantages as a place of strength, may be said, 
dwing to the narrowness of the strait upon which it juts 
out, to command, not merely the corner of Andalusia 
immediately under it, but the whole of the western 
coast of Spain, comprising nearly two-thirds of the 
whole maritime circumference of that country. It 
effectually cuts off all communication by sea between 
that part of Spain which is bounded by the Mediter- 
ranean and those parts which are bounded by the At- 
antic. It disables that power as much as England 



a fable that Europe and Africa were originally joined at 
this point, and that the two continents were riven 
asunder by Hercules, and a passage thereby opened 
between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Gibral- 
tar, under the name of Calpe, and Mount Abyla oppo- 
site to it on the African coast, were called die Pillars of 
Hercules, and appear to have been in very early ages 
regarded by the people dwelling to the east of them, in- 
cluding the Carthaginians, the Greeks, and the Romans, 
as the westernboundary of the world. It was probably 
lone: before navigation penetrated beyond this limit. 

II 



rf 

t. 

e 



[The Rock of Gibraltar.] 



The place appears to have been first seized upon and 
converted into a military station by the Moors when 
they invaded Spain in the beginning of the eighth cen- 
tury. From their leader, Tarif, it was in consequence 
called Gibel-Tarif, or the Mountain of Tarif, of which 
Arabic name Gibraltar is a corruption. Soon after 
establishing themselves here, the Moors erected a lofty 
and extensive castle on the north-west side of the moun- 
tain, the ruins of which still remain. Gibraltar conti- 
nued in the possession of the Moors for between seven 
and eight centuries, with the exception of about thirty 
years, during which it was held by the Christians, hav- 
ing been taken soon after the commencement of the 
fourteenth century by Ferdinand, king of Castile. It 
was recovered, however, in 1333, by Abomelek, the son 
of the emperor of Fez, and the Moors were not finally 
dispossessed of it till the middle of the following century. 
After that it remained a part of the kingdom of Spain, 
down nearly to our own times. 



The promontory of Gibraltar forms the south-western 
extremity of the province of Andalusia, running out 
into the sea in nearly a due south direction for about 
three miles. The greater part of this tongue consists of 
a very lofty rock. It rises abruptly from the land to the 
height of fully 1300 feet, presenting a face almost per- 
fectly perpendicular, and being consequently from that, 
its northern extremity, completely inaccessible. The 
west side, however, and the southern extremity, consist 
each of a series of precipices or declivities which admit 
of being ascended. The town, now containing a popula- 
tion of above 17,000 persons, is built on the west side. 
, Along the summit of the mountain, from north to 
south, runs a bristling ridge of rocks, forming a ragged 
and undulating line against the sky when viewed from 
the east or west. The whole of the western breast of 
the promontory is nearly covered with fortifications. 
Anciently, it is said, '♦, used to be well wooded in many 
places; but there are now very few trees to be seen, 



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although a good many gardens are scattered up and 
down both in the town and among the fortifications. A 
great part of the rock is hollowed out into caverns, some 
of which are of magnificent dimensions, especially one 
called St. George's Cave, at the southern point, which 
although having only an opening of five feet, expands 
into an apartment of two hundred feet in length by ninety 
in breadth, from the lofty roof of which descend numerous 
stalactitical pillars, giving it the appearance of a gothic 
cathedral. These caves seem to have been the chief 
thing for which Gibraltar was remarkable among the 
ancients. They are mentioned by the Roman geogra- 
pher, Pompon i us Mela, who wrote about the middle of 
the first century of our era. The southern termina- 
tion of the rock of Gibraltar is called Europa Point, and 
has been sometimes spoken of as the termination in that 
direction of the European continent ; but Tarifa Point, 
to the west of Gibraltar, is fully five miles farther 
south. 

It is impossible for us here to attempt any description 
of the fortifications which now cover so great a part of 
this celebrated promontory. Gibraltar was first forti- 
fied in the modern style by the German engineer, Da- 



niel Speckel, at the command of the emperor Charles V. 
towards the close of the sixteenth century. But little of 
what was then erected probably now remains. Since 
the place fell into the possession of the English, no ex- 
pense has been spared to turn its natural advantages to 
the best account, and additions have repeatedly been 
made to the old fortifications on the most extensive 
scale. It is, now, without doubt, the most complete for- 
tress in the world. 

More than half a centurv ago Gibraltar was accounted 
by military men almost impregnable. " No power 
whatever," says Colonel James in his History of the 
Herculanean Straits, published in 1771, " can take 
that place, unless a plague, pestilence, famine, or the 
want of ordnance, musketry, and ammunition, or some 
unforeseen stroke of Providence, should happen." It is 
certainly now much stronger than it was then. One 
improvement which has especially added to its security 
is the formation of numerous covered galleries excavated 
in the rock, with embrasures for firing down upon both 
the isthmus and the bay. The interior of part of these 
works is represented in the annexed wood-cut. 

Gibraltar was taken by an English fleet, under the 



command of Sir George Rooke and the Prince of Hesse 
Darmstadt, in July, 1704. The project of the attack 
was very suddenly formed at a council of war held on 
board the admiral's ship, while the fleet was Cruising in 
the Mediterranean, and it was apprehended that it would 
be obliged to return to England without having per- 
formed any exploit commensurate to the expectations 
with which it had been fitted out. The affair proved a 
very easy one ; the garrison, which consisted of one 
hundred and fifty men, having surrendered after a bom- 
bardment of only a few hours. The assailants lost only 
sixty lives, the greater part by a mine which was sprung 
after they had effected a landing. In the latter part of 
the same year a most resolute effort was made to recover 
the place by the combined forces of France and Spain, 
which foiled after it had been persevered in for several 



months, and had cost the besiegers not less than 10,000 
men. The loss of the garrison was about 400. 

At the Peace of Utrecht, in 1713, the possession of 
Gibraltar was confirmed to England. In 1727, however, 
another attempt, on a formidable scale, was made by 
Spain to dislodge the foreigners. An army of 20,000 
men having encamped in the neighbourhood, the attack 
was commenced in February and continued till the 
12th of May, when it was put an end to by the general 
peace. In this siege th# garrison lost 300 in killed and 
wounded; but the loss of the besiegers was not less 
than 3000. The guns in the fortifications, it is worthy 
of remark, proved so bad, that seventy cannons and 
thirty mortars burst in the course of the firing. 

But the most memorable of all the sieges of Gibraltar 
was the last, which commenced in 1779, and did not 



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fcrmhMrte till it had been continued fbr more tfcftn three r 
tears. Of this remarkable siege *« excellent arid irrte- ; 
resting account has been given by Captain John Drink- 
wate*, who was present in the beleaguered fortress during 
the whole time. England was engaged m sustaining 
the contest with her revolted colonies in Afhetica, when ' 
hostilities were also commenced against her, first by 
France and some time after by Spain. There is no 
doubt that, whatever were her professions, the latter 
power took up arms "merely with the object of recovering 
Gibraltar. The Spanish ambassador having announcer! ; 
the intentions of his Court, in London, on the 10th of 
Jnne, 1779, on the 2 1st of the same month all commu- 
nication between Gibraltar and the surrounding coun- 
try was closed by command of the j*ovemment of 
Madrid. It was the middle of the following month, 
however, before the Spaniards began to block up the 
fort. Fortunately, in the early part of this year, General 
George Augustus Eliot, who had been recently ap- 
pointed Governor, had arrived in the fort, and brought 
to the crisis that was approaching the aid of his great 
military science and talents, as well as of some of the 
highest moral qualities that ever adorned the soldier or 
the man. General Eliot, who was the ninth and 
youngest son of Sir Gilbert Eliot of Stobbs, in Rox- 
burghshire, was at this time about sixty years of age, 
more than forty of which he had spent in the service of 
his country. Another fortunate circumstance was that 
a supply of provisions had arrived in the 
April. Had it not been fur this, the garri 
have suffered terribly from the sudden stoppi 
accustomed intercourse both with Spain and with 
Afiica. 

The first firing which took place was on the 12th of 
September, when a cannonade was opened from the fort 
whi'!h destroyed the works that the besiegers had spent 
rn'Miy of the preceding weeks in erecting. The blockade, 
no) withstanding, became every day closer ; and the oc- 
casional boats, which had for some time stolen In from 
the Afrcan coast and other places, at length found it 
impossib e to continue their attempts. By the end of 
Oc'ol>er provisions had become extremely dear. About 
ihc same time, too, the small-pox broke out among the 
Jewish inhabitants of the town, and every precaution 
had lo be used to prevent the spread of the disease. In 
November, the Governor, in order to try on how Ifttlt 
food life and strength could be sustained, restricted 
himself for eight days to four ounces of rice per day. 
Thistles, dandelions, wild leeks, &c., began to be eaten 
by the people of the town — and meat sold from half-a- 
crown to four shillings the pound. 

The first firing from the besiegers took place on the 
12th of January, 1780; and the first person wounded 
in the fort was a woman. By the end of March the 
first supply of provisions arrived, brought in by the 
gallant Admiral Rodney, who had not only cut his way 
to the assistance of his distressed countryman through 
all the opposition of the enemy, but had captured six of 
their men-of-war, including a sixty-four gun-ship with 
the admiral on board, together with seventeen merchant- 
men. His present majesty, then known as Prince 
William Henry, was serving on board one of Sir 
George Rodney's ships as a midshipman, and often 
yisited the garrison while the fleet remained in the bay. 
Captain Drinkwater relates that, on seeing a prince of 
the blood thus serving as a warrant-ofticerj, the captive 
Spanish Admiral exclaimed that Great Britain well 
deserved the empire of the seas, when even her kings' 
sons were found thus holding the humblest situations on 
board her ships. 

For a good many months after this things con- 
tinued in nearly the same state. The garrison and 
townspeople were again and again reduced to the 
greatest privations by scarcity of provisions before sup- 



plies arrived. In the spring of ITS I, tb« btsiegtm it 
last opened their batteries, and continued firing u]m» 
the town till they had completely destroyed it. O* th* 
$7th of April, however, a most gallant exploit was per- 
formed by a parly from the garrison, who, making a 
sortie from their fortifications, succeeded m setting fir* 
to, and reducing lo ashes, all the erections of the 
enemy, although distant not less than three-quarters of 
a mile. This, however, brought onry a temporary 
relief. The firing soon after recommenced, and, ftir 
more than a year, continued almost incessantly. In 
the course of 1782 it was, on the suggestion of General 
Boyd, returned from the Rock with red-hot balls, a 
device which was found to produce the mast powerful 
effect. The *nemy, howe\er, now prepared for a 
grand effort. On the l*th of September the combined 
fleets of France and Spain arrived in the bay. Next 
morning there were drawn up around the south and 
west sides of the promontory a most formidable arma- 
ment, consisting of forty-seven sail of the line, seven of 
which were three-deckers, together with ten battering- 
ships, the strongest that had ever been built, and many 
frigates and smaller vessels. On land there lay an 
army of 40,000 men, with batteries on which were 
mounted 200 pieces of heavy ordnance. On the other 
side, the garrison now consisted of about 7,000 effective , 
men. The ships were permitted to take their stations 
without molestation ; but, about a quarter before ten 
y clock, as soon as the first of them dropped anchor, the 
citadel began to pour upon them its hitherto-reserved 
irtillery. Now commenced a scene of terrible tub- 
limity. Four hundred pieces of the heaviest ordnance 
thundered without intermission, and filled the air with 
smoke and flame. •' For some hours,'' says Captain 
Drinkwater, " the attack and defence were so equally 
well supported as scarcely lo admit any appearance of 
superiority in the cannonade on either side. The won 
derful construction of the ships seemed to bid defiance 
to the powers of the heaviest ordnance. Jn the after- 
noon, however, the face of things began to change con- 
siderably. The smoke which had been observed to 
issue from the upper part of the flag-ship appeared to 
prevail, notwithstanding the coustaut application of 
water ; and the admiral's second was perceived to be in 
the same condition. Contusion was now apparent on 
board several of the vessels ; and, by the evening, their 
cannonade was considerably abated. About seven or 
eight o'clock it almost entirely ceased, excepting from 
one or two ships to the northward, which, from tjieir 
distance, had suffered little injury." 

In the end, the attack ended in the complete annihila- 
tion of the assailing squadron. All the larger ships 
were beaten to pieces or burnt. As night approached 
groans and signals of distress from those on board the 
shattered navy supplied the place of the now slackened 
fire. Many of the wretched men were st niggling for 
life in the waters; and the victors themselves at last put 
out to their assistance, and picked numbers of them up. 
The loss of the enemy was supposed to amount to about 
2000, including prisoners. Of the English there were 
only 16 killed and 6^ wounded. The Rock was a much 
better defence than even those strong-built men-of-war. 
The assailants had had 300 pieces of ordnance in play; 
the garrison only employed SO cannon, 7 mortars, and 
howitzers. " Upwards of v. 300 rounds," says Cap- 
tain Drinkwater, " more than half of which were hot 
shot, and 7 1 6 barrels of powder, were expended by our 
artillery." 

Even this complete discomfiture, however, did not 
subdue the obstinacy of the besiegers. They continued 
to encompass the place, and even to keep up a feeble 
fire upon it some months longer. At length the long 
blockade was terminated by the announcement of the 
signature of the preliminaries of a general peace on the 



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2d of February, 1783. The men in the Spanish boat 
that came with the tidings of this event made their &]>- 
pearancc with ecstasy in their countenances, and ex- 
claiming, " We are all friends !" It was not till the 
10th of March, however, that free intercourse was re- 
established by the arrival from England of the official 
intelligence that peace had been concluded. General 
Eliot and his brave companions soon after returned 
home to receive the congratulations of their country ; 
and since this hard contest no foreign power has dared 
to assault Gibraltar. 

THE LOCUST. 

The locust belongs to that class of insects which natu- 
ralists distinguish by the name of grytlu*. The common 
grasshopper is of this genus, and in its general appear- 
ance resembles the ** migratory locust," of which we 
have to speak. The body of this insect is long in pro- 
portion to its size, and is defended on the back by a 
strong corslet, either of a greenish or light- brown hue. 
The head, which is vertical, is very large, and furnished 
with two antennae of about an inch in length : the eyes 
are very prominent, dark and rolling : the jaws are 
strong, and terminate in tliree incisive teeth, the sharp 
points of which traverse each other like scissors. The 
insect is furnished with four wiugs, of Which the exterior 
pair, which are properly cases to the true wings, are 
tough, straight, and larger than those which they cover, 
which are pliant, reticulated, nearly transparent, and 
fold up in the manner of a fan. The four anterior legs 
are of middling size, and of great use in Climbing and 
feeding ; but tile posterior pair are much larger and 
logger, and of such strength that the locust is enabled 
by their means to leap more than two hundred times 
the length of its own body, which Is usually from two 
to three inches. Locusts, as the writer of this article 
has seen them in the East, are generally of a light 
brown or stone colour, with dusky spots on the corslet 
and wing-cases; the mouth and inside of the thighs 
tinctured with blue, and the wings with green, blue, or 
red. These wings are of a delicate and beautiful texture ; 
and in the fine fibres, by which the transparency is 
traversed, the Moslems of western Asia fancy that they 
can decypher .an Arabic sentence, which signifies "We 
are the destroying aimy of God." 

The female locust lays al>out forty eggs, which in 
appearance are not unlike oat-grains, but smaller. She 
covers them with a \ iscid matter by which they are 
sometimes attached to blades of grass, but are more 
usually deposited in the ground. For this purpose she 
prefers light sandy earths, and will not leave the eggs 
in compact, moist, or cultivated grounds, unless she 
has been brought down on them i>y rain, wind, or 
fatigue, and rendered incapable of seeking a more 
eligible situation. Having performed this, the female 
dies; and the eggs remain in the ground throughout 
the winter. If much 'rain occurs, the wet spoils them, 
by destroying the viscid matter in which they are enve- 
loped, and which is essential to their preservation. 
Heat also seems necessary to their production, for the 
little worm, which proceeds from the egg, sometimes 
appears so early as February and sometimes *tot until 
May, according to the state of the season. This, in the 
usual course, heoomes a nymph, in which state it attains 
its full growth in about twenty rfour days. After having 
for a few days abstained from food, it -then Jmrsts its 
skin, comes forth a perfect animal, and immediately 
begins to unfold and trim its wings with the hinder 
feet. The insects which first attain this state do not im- 
mediately fly off, but wait in the neighbourhood for 
thoseiwhoee development is more tardy ; bytwhen their 
army is formed, they take their flight from the district. 

To those who have not seenja flight of locusts, it is 
difficult bp4esr.rJptioa to convey an idea *f the appear- 



ance 4t presents. As seen approaching in the- distance 
it resembles a vast opaque cloud, and as it advances a 
clattering noise in heard which is occasioned by the ari- 
tation and concussion of wings in their close phalanxes. 
When tfiey arrive they fill the air, like flakes of thick 
falling snow ; and we have known the bright and clear 
sky of Chaldea become darker than that of Londou 
on some heavy November day. 

Wherever they alight every vegetable substance dis- 
appears with inconceivable rapidity before them. The 
most beautiful and highly-cultivated lands assume the 
appearance of a desert, and the trees stand stripped of 
all their leaves, as in the midst of winter. After de- 
vouring the fruits, the herbage, and the leaves of trees, 
they attack the buds and the bark, and do not even 
spare the thatch of the houses. The most poisonous, 
caustic, or bitter plants, as well as the juicy and nu- 
tritive, are equally consumed ; and thus " the land 
is as the Garden of Eden before them, and behind 
them a desolate wilderness." It seems as if nothing 
could appease their devouring hunger, and the energy 
and activity they exhibit, and the rapidity of their 
operations, almost exceed belief. Their depredations 
are not confined to the open air ;— they scale the walls, 
and penetrate to the granaries and houses. They 
swarm from the cellar to the garret, and, within doors 
and without, they are a terrible nuisance, for they are 
continually springing about, and often, in consequence, 
give a person startling raps on different parts of the 
race, affording very sensible evidence of the force with 
which they leap ; and, as the mouth cannot be opened 
without the danger of receiving a locust, it is impossible 
to converse or .eat with comfort. When they have 
settled themselves at night, the ground is covered with 
them to a vast extent : and, in some situations, they lie 
one above another several inches thick. In travelling 
they are crushed beneath the feet of the horses ; and 
the animals are so terribly annoyed by the bouncing 
against them iu all directions of the insects they have 
disturbed, that they snort with alarm, and become un- 
willing to proceed. 

It is not merely the living presence of these insects 
which is terrible, but new calamities are occasioned by 
their death, when the decomposition of their bodies fills 
the air with pestilential miasma, occasioning epidemic 
maladies, the ravages of which are compared to those of 
the plague. Thus famine and death follow in their 
train ; and instances are not of rare occurrence in the 
East in which villages and whole districts have been 
depopulated by them. 

Under these circumstances it necessarily becomes an 
object of anxious attention, in the countries they are 
most accustomed to visit, either to prevent them from 
alighting on the cultivated grounds, or to drive them off 
or destroy them after they have descended. 

The impression is very general that noise frightens 
these insect devastators and prevents them from alight- 
ing. When, therefore, the people are aware of the 
approach of their armies, every kettle or other non»y 
instrument in the place is in requisition, with which, 
and by shouts and screeches, men, women, and children 
unite in the endeavour to make the most horrible din in 
their^)ower. The scene would be truly laughable, from 
the earnestness which every one exhibits in this strange 
employment, were *** *U disposition to mirth checked 
by tfoe^oneeieesnest of the fearful consequences of the 
invasion which it is thus endeavoured to avert. 

Slew fer noise «iay really operate in preventing their 
descent in ordinary circumstances, it is not easy to 
ascertain; hut on the approach of evening, or when 
exhausted by their jeurney, nothing can prevent them 
from slighting. Hiey will then descend even on the 
seas and ri¥evt,«f j whieh gone striking instances aje 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



[January IS, 1884. 



When a swarm has actually alighted, the means 
employed to drive them off are much the same as those 
to prevent their descent. But this is never attempted 
in wet weather, or until the sun has absorbed the dew, 
as the locust is quite incapable of flying while its wings 
are wet. When the swarm is large, or when it has 
come down on cultivated grounds, no measure of de- 
struction is practicable without sacrificing the produce ; 
but when the depredators have been driven to waste 
grounds, or happened in the first instance to descend 
upon them, various modes of extirpation are resorted to, 
of which the following is the most effective : — a large 
trench is dug from three to four feet wide, and about 
the same depth. The off side is lined with people 
furnished with sticks and brooms, while others form a 
semicircle which encloses the extremities of the trench, 
and the troop of locusts, which are then driven into the 
grave intended for them by the clamorous noises we 
have already described. The party stationed on the 
other side push bock such insects as attempt to escape 
at the edges, crush them with their sticks and brooms, 
and throw in the earth upon them. 

These insect devastators have fortunately a great 
number of enemies. Birds, lizards, hogs, foxes, and 
even frogs, devour a great number ; and a high wind, 
a cold rain, or a tempest destroys millions of them. In 
the East they are used as an article of food. In some 
parts they are dried and pounded, and a sort of bread 
is made which is of much utility in bad harvests. They 
are sold as common eatables in the bazaar of Bagdad, 
and the cooks of the East have various ways of pre- 
paring them for use. 

CHARACTER OF FRANKLIN. 

(From the ' Gallery of Portrait^ No. XX.) 
F.EW men ever possessed such opportunities or talents 
for contributing to the welfare of mankind ; fewer still 
have used them to better purpose : and it is pleasant to 
know, on his own authority, that such extensive services 
were rendered without any sacrifice of his own happi- 
ness. In his later correspondence he frequently alludes 
with complacency to a favourite sentiment which he has 
also introduced into his * Memoirs ;' — " That he would 
willingly live over again the same course of life, even 
though not allowed the privilege of an author, to correct 
in a second edition the faults of the first." 

His remarkable success in life and in the discharge 
of his public functions is not to be ascribed to genius, 
unless the term be extended to that perfection of com- 
mon sense and intimate knowledge of mankind which 
almost entitled his sagacity to the name of prescience, 
and made " Franklin's forebodings " proverbially omi- 
nous among those who knew him. His pre-eminence 
appears to have resulted from the habitual cultivation 
of a mind originally shrewd and observant, and gifted 
with singular powers of energy and self-control. There 
was a business-like alacrity about him, with a discre- 
tion and integrity which conciliated the respect even of 
his warmest political foes ; a manly straight-forwardness 
before which no pretension could stand unrebuked ; and 
a cool tenacity of temper and purpose which never for- 
sook him under the most discouraging circumstances, 
and was no doubt exceedingly provoking to his oppo- 
nents. Indeed his sturdiness, however useffcl to his 
country in time of need, was perhaps carried rather to 
excess ; his enemies called it obstinacy, and accused him 
of being morose and sullen. No better refutation of 
such a charge can be wished for than the testimony 
borne to his disposition by Priestley ( • Monthly Maga- 
zine,' 1782), a man whom Franklin was justly proud 
to call his friend. In private life he was most esti- 
mable ; two of his most favourite maxims were, never 
to exalt himself by lowering others, and in society to 
eqjuy and contribute to all innocent amusements without 



reserve. His friendships were consequently lasting, 
and chosen at will from among the most amiable as well 
as the most distinguished of both sexes, wherever his 
residence happened to be fixed. 

His chief claims to philosophical distinction are his 
experiments and discoveries in electricity ; but he has 
left essays upon various other matters of interest and 
practical utility — an end of which he never lost sight. 
Among these are remarks on ship-building and light- 
houses; on the temperature of the sea at different 
latitudes and depths, and the phenomena of what is 
called the Gulf-stream of the Atlantic ; on the effect of 
oil poured upon rough water, and other subjects con- 
nected with practical navigation; and on the proper 
construction of lamps, chimneys, and stoves. His sug- 
gestions on these subjects are very valuable. His 
other writings are numerous; they relate chiefly to 
politics, or the inculcation of the rules of prudence and 
morality. Many of them are light and even playful ; 
they are all instructive, and written in an excellent and 
simple style; but they are not entirely free from the 
imputation of trifling upon serious subjects. The most 
valuable of them is probably his autobiography, which 
is unfortunately but a fragment. 

As a speaker he was neither copious nor eloquent , 
there was even a degree of hesitation and embarrass- 
ment in his delivery. Yet as he seldom rose without 
having something important to say, and always spoke 
to the purpose, he commanded the attention of his 
hearers, and generally succeeded in his object. 

His religious principles, when disengaged from the 
scepticism of his youth, appear to have been sincere, 
and unusually free from sectarian animosity. 

Upon the whole, his long and useful life forms an in- 
structive example of the force which arises from the har- 
monious combination of strong faculties and feelings 
when so controlled by sense and principle that no one 
is suffered to predominate to the disparagement of the 
rest. 



[Franklin.] 



•«• Tb« Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge to e* 

69, LincolnVIon Fields. 

LONDON : CHARLES KNIGHT, S2, LUDOATE STRUT, 

Printed by William Clowxs, Duke Street, Usibetfc 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[January 25, 1834. 



HAMPTON-COURT PALACE. 



[Middle Quadrangle of the Palace of Hampton-Court.] 



IN the early part of the thirteenth century the manor 
of Hampton Court became the property of the powerful 
community of military ecclesiastics, the Knights Hos- 
pitallers of St. John of Jerusalem. From the prior of 
this order a lease of the place was obtained, about the 
year 1515, by the famous Wolsey, already Archbishop 
of York, Lord High Chancellor of England, Cardinal, 
Legate k latere, and rapidly mounting to the zenith 
of his greatness. The palace of Hampton Court owes 
its origin to this lordly spirit : — 

" He was a man 
v Of an unbounded stomach, even ranking 
Himself with princes." 

In projecting this monument of his taste and splendour, 
he might be said to aim at over-topping even his royal 
master. Numerous as then were the residences of the 
King of England, there was no one — neither Windsor, 
nor Richmond, nor Eltham, nor Greenwich, nor White- 
hall, nor St. James's — that could vie with the magnifi- 
cence of that which was rising under the hand of Wolsey. 
The daring projector was soon made to feel the impru- 
dence of which he had been guilty. The structure, we 
are told, excited great ejivy at court, and Wolsey was 
asked by Henry himself what he meant by building a 
house so much finer than any of the royal palaces. The 
aspiring minister, thus suddenly and sharply reminded 
of whose breath he was the creature, had only one part 
to take : he replied to his majesty's question, that it was 
not for himself he had erected such a dwelling, — that, 
Vol. III. 



if the gift might be accepted, the palace of Hampton 
Court was intended for his sovereign. Had Henry not 
obtained his object in this easy and smooth way, he 
no doubt would have resorted to rougher means. How- 
ever, the cardinal did not go unrequited. The king took 
the palace, but " in recompense thereof," says Stowe, 
"licensed him to lie in his manor of Richmond at his 
pleasure, and so he lay there at certain times." 

This happened in the year 1526. The place after- 
wards became the favourite residence of Henry ; and it 
has also been inhabited by many of his royal successors. 
Yet it is the name of Wolsey that still gives its chief 
historical interest to the spot. Not one of its crowned 
possessors has left a memory within its courts and halls 
that either fills the imagination or lives in popular tra- 
dition like his. Call it genius, or only fortune, that 
lifted him to his airy height; there was a force and 
power in this man's meteoric course, the dazzle of which 
is not yet out of the eyes of his countrymeu, after the 
lapse of SCO years. What name in our old history is 
still so familiar a sound among all classes as that of 
Cardinal Wolsey ? We know no other that comes near 
it in this respect, except that of Oliver Cromwell, and 
that is modern in comparison. Had these two men 
been mere ruffians, however enormous, they would not 
have been thus remembered. Story, song, and what- 
ever other modes of appeal there are from the heart of 
one age to that of another which serve to convey and * 
multiply fame, all revolt from unmixed and unadorned 

E 



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villainy. There was a lofty and soaring magnificence 
in Wolsey's nature, which, despite of all his faults and 
vices, threw a glory around him. Nor was he probably 
without some amiable qualities, and some points thai 
merited esteem from the coldest reason. The character 
drawn of him to Queen Catherine, by the " honest 
chionicler" Griffith, may perhaps be allowed to describe 
hi n with nearly as much truth as force and liveliness : — 

44 This Cardinal, 
XHough from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashioned to much honour. From his cradb 
Ha was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; 
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading : 
Xrfofty and sour to them that loved him not ; 
But to those rat* n that sought him, sweet as summer. 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, 
He Was most princely : ever witness for him 
Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, 
Ipswich and Oxford ! one'of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
T»»e other, though unfinished, yet so famous, 
So excellent in ait, and still so rising, 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
Hi* overthrow heaped happiness ujion him ; 
For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
And found the blesM*luess of being littloj 
And, to add greater honours to his age 
Than man could give him, he died, tearing ttod." 

Ike palace projected and, in great put at least, 
erected by Wolsey, consisted of five quadrangles. Of 
these only two now remain, the site of the other tfcme 
being occupied by the new buildings, forming what is 
called the Fountain Court, which were added by Sir 
Christopher Wren, in the reign of William III. Hint 
art the suite of state rooms, the gallery containing the 
fam*m Cartoons of Raffaelle, and the principal apart- 
ments which have been inhabited by the royal family in 
modem times ; but this portion of the palace neither 
corresponds in architectural character with the ancient 
deafen, nor has much pretension to superior elegance in 
itself. Sir Christopher s attempts upon a Gothic ground- 
work were usually failures; his genius was wholly 
averse to the spirit of that style. In the present in- 
stattCfe, however, nothing Gothic was thought of. King 
William wanted Tather a convenient than an ornamental 
building; and the mediocrity of the performance is 
probably attributable in some respects less to the taste 
of the architect than to that of his royal master. 

The Fountain Court forms the eastern division of the 
palace. The grand front looks towards the west ; and, 
although injured in character and effect by the intro- 
duction of modern windows among the fanciful and 
picturesque forms of the original design, is *till a hand- 
some elevation. The quadrangle immediately within 
the gate, called the Entrance Court, is supposed io be 
the most ancient part of the building. Here, there can 
be little doubt, we have Wolsey's own work. The 
apartments surrounding this court are for the most part 
tenanted by private families, to whom the privilege of 
residing here is granted by the crown. It is stated m 
the Guide Bopks that, including servants, the number 
of persons thus lodged in the palace is not less than 700 ; 
but, judging by the deserted appearance of the place, it 
is difficult to believe that it can be the nest of so large 
a, population. One of the rooms in this court is inte- 
resting as having been, it is said, the sleeping chamber 
of Charles I. after he was brought here by the army on 
the 24th of August, 1647. The few weeks which ; he 
•pent at Hampton Court between this date and the 
11th of November, when he made his escape to the 
Isle of Wight, witnessed the unhappy monarch's hot 
exercise of the semblance of royal authority. " He 
lived, for some time," says Hume, " in that palace, with 
an appearance of dignity and freedom. Such admirable 
equability of temper did he possess, that, during all the 
variety of fortune which he underwent, no dmarence 



was perceived in his countenance or behaviour ; and, 
though a prisoner, in the hands of his most inveterate 
enemies, he supported towards all who approached him 
the majesty of a monarch ; and that, neither with less 
nor greater state, than what he had been accustomed to 
maintain. His manner, which was not in itself popular 
nor gracious, now appeared amiable, from its great 
meekness and equality." The room, in whieh he is said 
to have slept, is a small octagonal closet, with an iron 
door. Cromwell is asserted to have made the same 
apartment his bed-chamber, the security afforded by the 
iron door inducing him to prefer it to a more spacious 
room. And it has also the credit of having been Wolsey a 
orator}' ; a tradition to which some remains of paintings 
on the walls, representing the Last Supper and other 
scriptural subjects, have probably given origin. It is 
now, — 

'• To such base use* may w# coma, Horatio," — 
used as a pantry. 

The next quadrangle, called the Middle Court, is 
also a part of the ancient palace. A conspicuous object 
on one of the sides of this court is an ancient clock, 
whieh was long said to have been made by the famous 
Tampion, but appears to be the work of another artist, 
Lindsay Bradley, who lived about the beginning of the 
last century. The date on it h? in 17 1 1 . But the object 
of greatest interest here is the Great Hall, which is on 
the north side of the court : this is a noble room, 104 
feet in length by 40 in breadth, with a rich Got hie 
roof and a splendid oriel window. In J 3-7, an enter- 
tainment of extraordinary splendour was given, by order 
of Henry VIII., to the French ambassador in Hampton- 
Court Palace ; Wolsey, who had the year before presented 
the palace to the king, having been commanded to pre- 
side over both the preparation and the solemnization cf 
the festivities. On this occasion the magnificent Car- 
dinal aeeras to have exhausted his ingenuity to fiiroish 
out a succession of the most sumptuous revelries for the 
gratification and wonder of his guests. A long and 
minute account of the whole affair has been given by 
his biographer Cavendish, in a passage which has beeit 
frequently extracted. The scene of the principal pat t 
of the entertainment is stated to have been the G ;eai II all 
of the palace. There are considerable doubts uliether 
this was, as is commonly asserted, the present hull ; f< r 
the erection of that room has, by a very competent auiho • 
rity, been assigned to a somewhat later date. Among: 
its decoratjons are the initials of Henry aud his queen, 
Jane Seymour, twisted by a t rue-do vers kit..t; and 
this, as has been remarked by Mr. Lysous, in hi* 'His- 
torical Aecount of those Parishes in the County of 
Middlesex winch are not described in the E a \ irons <f 
London/ seems to prove that it must have been built 
either in 4536 or 1537, the only two years during * hick 
Jane Seymour was queen. To ob\iate the lorce ui this 
objection, it has been supposed that this cipher might 
have been introduced while the hall was undergoing 
some repair in one of these years. There can be no 
doubt, also, from the account given by Cavendish, that 
there was a Great Hall in the palaoe in 1527; ami 
there is now no trace of any room answering his descrip- 
tion except this. This answers perfectly, having also a 
smaller apartment at one end* now called the Board of 
Green Cloth, which seems exactly to occupy the position 
of what Cawendiah calk the Chamber of Piesence, iu 
whrahisome of the tables were set at the great feast. 



VOLCANIC ISLAND OFF THE AZORES. 

(From a Cwr&pitadvtU.) 
Having seen* 4n a late N amber -of your Maga&ua, ao 
account of the wloanic island which i-eueatry.aaade fea 
appearance <jff*he aeutfe eeast of Sicily, I beg* ieervc to 

send ynulh^mmft^pmyinyjA^tT^^pf^^^l]^^^ 



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TiJE P&Ninr HAOAZINB 



tff 



nomenon which occurreo off the Island of Si. Michael, 
(Azores.) This event may be probably unknown to 
many of your, readers, or forgotten by others, who will 
thus have an opportunity of comparing these two re- 
markable events. 

In the night of the 1st of February, 1811, flames 
were observed issuing from the sea at the distance of 
about a mile and a half from the west end of St. 
Michael ; and, soon after, a most awful and tremendous 
explosion took place, throwing up, from a depth of 
forty fathoms, cinders, ashes, and stones of immense 
size. Quantities of fish, as if boiled, floated on the 
surface of the sea towards the shore ; and a dangerous 
shoal was thus formed. On the 19th of June, two 
columns of white smoke were seen rising from the sea 
at this spot, and the Sabriua British sloop-of-war, sup- 
posing it to be the result of an engagement, made sail 
towards it. For two or three days previous, however, 
repeated shocks of earthquake had been felt in St. 
Michael, which threw down several cottages and por- 
tions of the cliff towards the north-west; but these 
ceased so soon as the volcano broke out. On the 18th, 
it was still raging with unabated violence, throwing up, 
from under the water, large stones, cinders, ashes, &c., 
accompanied with several severe concussions. About 
04*0 n, on the same day, the mouth of the crater just 
showed itself above the surface of the sea where there 
was formerly forty fathoms of water ; at 3 p. m, H was 
aiMiklt thirty feet above the water, and about a furlong 
ia length. On the 19th, it was about fifty feet in 
height and two-thirds of a mile in length, still raging 
as before, and throwing up large quantities of stones, 
tome of whieh fell a mile distant from the volcano. The 
stitake drew up several waterspouts, which, spreading 
in the sir, fell in heavy rain accompanied with vast 
quantities of black sand. 

On the 2Uth, the Sabrina proceeded on ft cruises 
leaving the volcano about 150 feet high, still raging a* 
formerly, and increasing in siie;— when she returned, 
on the 4th of July, it was found quite quiet, and a com- 
plete Wand formed. The eaptain and several officers 
landed upon it, and found it very steep, and between 
200 and mO feet in height. It was with difficulty they 
were able to retch the top, which at last they effected, 
in ft quarter where there was a gentle declivity ; but the 
ground, or rather ashes, composed of sulphureous 
matter, dross of iron, Ac, was so very hot to their feet 
thftt they were glad to return after having taken pos- 
session of the island in the name of his Britannic 
Majesty, and left an English Union Jtck flying on it. 

The Circumference of the island, which was of a 
circular &***> was, at this time, tbout a mile. In the 
middle wes a large basin of boiling water, whence a 
stream, about sit yards across, ran into the sea on the 
side facing &t. Michael; and at the distance of fifty 
vnrds from the shore, the water, although thirty kthomi 
daepi was too hot to hold the hand in. In short, the 
whole island appeared as a crater ; the cliff on the 
outside as walls, steep within and without. 

file appearance of the volcano prior to the crater 
slwwlng ftself above the surface, as seen from the 
nearest point of St. Michael, ou a cliff about 400 feet 
above the set, was that of an immense body of smoke 
revolving in the water almost horizontally, in varied 
involutions, when suddenly would shoot up a column of 
the blackest cinders, ashes, and stones, in form Nkea 
spire, and rising to windward at an angle of 10° to 26° 
from the perpendicular. The columns of ashes, Ac^ 
at their greatest height, formed into branches resembling 
magnificent pines, and, as they fell, mixing with the 
festoons of White smoke, at one time assumed the ap- 
pearance of vast plumes of black and white ostrich 
feathers ; at another, that of light, wavy branches of the 
weeotng willow. These bursts were accompanied »Y 



explosions of the most vivid lightning, sod a noise like 
the continual fire of cannon and muskctiy ; and, as the 
cloud of smoke rolled off to leeward, it drew up the 
waterspouts above mentioned, which formed a beautiful 
and striking addition to the scene. 

Subsequently, this islet sunk gradually into the sea ; 
and, in the middle of October, no part was left above 
water; but a dangerous shoal remained in the place 
which it had occupied, and exists to this day. In Feb- 
ruary, 1812, smoke was again discovered issuing out of 
the sea near the spot. In Dr. Webster's recent account 
of St. Michael may be found some further particulars 
relative to this submarine volcano. 



SPONGE. 
This well-known marine production has been in use 
from very early times, and naturalists were long em- 
barrassed whether to assign it a place in the animal 
or the vegetable kingdom. Most authorities now 
agree in putting the sponges in the lowest scale of 
animal life. There are about fifty different species 
of sponges, of which nine or ten belong to this country. 
They are found in the Mediterranean and those seas 
in warm and temperate latitudes, diminishing in num- 
ber and becoming of inferior quality on the approach 
to cold regions. They adhere to rocks in places the 
least exposed to the action of currents and waves, which 
the ebbing tide does not leave uncovered. The best 
sponges known to us are those which come from the 
Archipelago, where they abound near many of the 
islands, whose inhabitants may be said to subsist by the 
Sponge-fishery, if we may so call it. At the Cyclades, 
for instance, sponge-diving forms the chief employment 
of the population. The sea is at all times extremely 
clear, and the experienced divers are capable of distin- 
guishing from the surface the points to which the sponge 
m attached below, when an unpractised eye could but 
dimly discern the bottom. Each boat is furnished with 
a large stone attached to a rope, and this the diver seises 
in his hand on plunging head foremost from the stern. 
He does this in order to increase the velocity of his 
descent ; thus economizing his stock of breath, as well 
as to facilitate his ascent when exhausted at the bottom, 
being then quickly hauled up by his companions. Few 
men can remain longer than about two minutes below ; 
and, as the process of detaching the sponge is very 
tedious, three, and sometimes four divers descend 
successively to secure a particularly fine specimen. 

The beet sponge is that which is the palest and 
lightest, his small holes, and is soft to the touch. By 
the old physicians, sponge was regarded as a cure for a 
long list or maladies ; this list is now much abridged, 
though burned sponge, in which form only it is used, 
stillnaS a place in the materia medica. 



SHAKSPEARES CLIFF. 
TlIB tulrjoined is a view of the precipice south-west from 
Dover, which has been long known by the name of 
ShakapeWs Cliff, from the famous description in 
* Lear,' which it is supposed to have suggested. In the 
first scene of the fourth act of that tragedy, the blind 
Gloster, while wandering on the heath, having met his 
son Edgar, who does not discover himself, asks him, 
" Dost thou know Dover ?" and when the latter answers, 
u Ay, Master," rejoins 

•« There U a cliff, whose high and bending head 
Looks fearfully in the confined d*ep j 
Bring me but to the very brim of it. 

From that place 

I shall ao leading need." 
From the first two of these lines the particular cliff 
here depicted has probably been fixed upon as that 
Which the poet must have had in his mind. The sunt* 



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(January 25 



mit of this portion of the chalky battlement formerly 
overhung its base, and, as Gloster forcibly expresses it, 
looked fearfully in (not on, as it has often been printed,) 
the confined deep. Shakspeare's Cliff, however, has 
now lost this distinguishing peculiarity. So many por- 
tions have successively fallen from it that, instead of 
bending over the sea, it now retires at the top towards 
the land ; and, as may be observed in the engraving, 
part of the precipice is broken off into a declivity. 
Another effect has been, that its height is considerably 
diminished, and the look down is not now so fearful as 
it must have been in Shakspeare's days. 

Having led his father some way farther on, Edgar at 
length pretends to have brought him to the neighbour- 
hood of the Cliff. He then exclaims, 



the description to be wrought to the utmost excellence 
of poetry. He conceives that it is unnatural for the 
mind when one is looking down a precipice, to be made 
to occupy itself with the observation of particulars, in- 
stead of being overwhelmed by the one great and dread- 
ful image of irresistible destruction. It is to be consi- 
dered, however, as Mr. Mason has well remarked, that 
Edgar is here describing only an imaginary precipice, or, 
at least, not one which he was actually looking down 
from. The passage is to be read with a recollection of 
the character, or assumed character, of Edgar; and 
whatever exaggeration there may be in it which is not 
sanctioned by the spirit of poetic representation, may be 
very fairly set down to the over-excited ftney and 
exalted language in which, as " poor Tom," the speaker 

.. ■ .... r-, /»•■!» 1. • « 

J- 

A 

e 



[Shakfpeaie'g Cliff.] 



THE MIRAGE. 



The mirage is a very curious optical delusion, by which, 
instead of a simple perception, approximated, multiplied, 
and generally vertical images of an object are exhibited 
to the eye. We shall endeavour to describe some of the 
appearances presented — particularly that of the siraub, 
or, " water of the desert," of which we are enabled to 



speak, not only from the reports of others, but from per- 
sonal observation ; and shall then state the principles on 
which the phenomena are explained. 

There are few travellers in the East who do not for- 
cibly describe and feelingly complain of the suffering 
endured from the want of water, in traversing the desert 



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plains of Egypt, Syria, and Persia : and to complete 
the appalling statement, it is only necessary to add, that 
it is precisely in those districts where the traveller is 
exposed to the most intense agonies of thirst, that his 
wants are mocked by the illusion which it is our pre- 
sent object to describe. 

Conceive an European in those countries travelling 
with— 

— — " Some great cararan, from well to well, 

W mding at darkneas on the desert fell," 

where the ground beneath him resembles the hot ashes 
of a forge, and the atmosphere is felt as the vapour of a 
furnace. No river, spring, or lake has been seen for 
many days ; and the water in the skins is quite ex- 
hausted, or so much reduced that a drop is more pre- 
cious than gold. Every eye is dim; every tongue, 
swollen, parched, and rent, cleaves to the roof of the 
mouth ; and the Arabs begin to talk of killing the 
camels for the sake of the water contained in their 
stomachs. In such circumstances it is easy to imagine 
the delight with which, in the heat of the day, the tra- 
veller perceives before him one or more lakes, reflecting 
on their dear surface the palm-trees, the hills, or any 
other objects around or within it, by which the unifor- 
mity of such a plain may be broken. He cannot make 
audible the joyful cry of " water ! water ! " but puts 
his beast to its speed, and wonders, perhaps, that none 
of the natives, whose wants are equal, seem similarly 
excited by the appearance. But he soon finds, to his 
great astonishment, that he cannot reach the water for 
which he longs, even " as the hart panteth for the 
water-brooks.'' Hie shore of the lake recedes as he 
approaches, and its dimensions are consequently con- 
tracted until, if he proceeds, it disappears, and is fre- 
quently fivrmed anew at a distance beyond him.. Pausing 
to consider the phenomenon with more attention, the 
traveller, if an intelligent person, will identify the ap- 
pearance with what he has heard of the siraub ; but the 
most attentive consideration will not enable him to detect, 
in the exhibition, any circumstances different from those 
which would be presented by real water. Sometimes 
the clear, calm azure reflects the objects around with 
the greatest precision and distinctness; and often the 
whitish vibratory volume exhibits the contours of the 
reflected objects as badly terminated, with that sort of 
indecision which always accompanies such representa- 
tions in water slightly ruffled by the wind. Local cir- 
cumstances sometimes contribute to give more striking 
effect to the illusion. In Lower Egypt, for instance, 
the villages, in order to avoid the effects of the inunda- 
tion of the Nile, are built on small eminences, scattered 
through a plain of vast extent. Towards the middle of 
the day, when the ground was heated, each village often 
appeared to the French army, during the campaign 
in that country, as if surrounded, to the distance of a 
league, by a lake, in which, underneath the village, a 
distinct reversed image of it was represented. This 
illusion is altogether so perfect and so strong, that, in our 
own case, after repeated experience, we always, in the 
first instance, took the siraub for real water, unless when, 
from local knowledge or the circumstances of the place, 
we knew its existence to be impossible or unlikely. 

In other circumstances the images are exhibited with- 
out the concomitant illusion of water ; and of this a very 
curious example was observed by Dr. Vince, at Rams- 
gate, on the 6th of August, 1806. Between that place 
and Dover there is a hill, over which the tops of the 
four turrets of Dover Castle are usually visible to a 
person at Ramsgate. But, on this occasion, Dr. Vince 
not only saw the turrets but the whole of the castle, 
which appeared as if it had been removed and planted 
on the side of the hill next to Ramsgate, and rising as 
much above the hill on that side as it actually did on 
)he other ; and this image of the castle was so strong 



and well-defined, that the mil itself did not appear 
through it. It should be observed that there is almost 
six miles of sea between Ramsgate and the land from 
which the hill rises, and about an equal distance from - 
thence to its summit ; and that the height of the eye 
above the sea in this observation was about seventy feet. 
This phenomenon is not confined to the land. It is, 
perhaps, more frequently observed at sea ; and indeed 
the very term (mirage) by which it is denominated 
originated with the French sailors. At sea the mirage 
is usually noticed under the form distinguished by the 
term " suspension." The object is then represented as 
above the water, painted, as it were, on the sky. Of 
this species of mirage we can find no instance more 
striking than that which was observed by Captain 
Scoresby, 26th of January, 1820, in the Greenland seas. 
The sun had shone during the day without the interven- 
tion of a cloud, and his rays had been unusually ardent. 
About six o'clock, p.m. a light breeze sprung up, and 
most of the ships navigating at the distance of ten or 
fifteen miles, amounting to about eighteen or nineteen 
sail, appeared then to undergo a change of magnitude 
and form; and, when examined from the mast-head 
with a telescope, exhibited some very extraordinary 
appearances, differing in almost every point of the com- 
pass. One ship had an inverted image above it ; ano- 
ther had two distinct images in the air; a third was 
distorted by elongation, the masts being nearly of twice 
the proper height; and others underwent contraction. 
All the images of the ships were accompanied by a 
reflection of the ice, in some places in two strata. 

The images of the mirage are commonly vertical, — 
that is, presenting the appearance of one object above 
another, like a ship above its shadow in the water. 
Sometimes, however, though very rarely, they are 
horizontal or lateral, —that is, one or more images are 
represented on the same plane with the object. This 
form of the phenomenon has been observed on the Lake 
of Geneva by M. Provost, and, on the 17th of Septem- 
ber, 1818, by MM. J urine and Soret, whose account 
we shall quote as the most distinct of the two. A bark 
near Bellerive was seen approaching Geneva by the 
left bank of the lake, and at the same time an image of 
the sails was seen above the water, which, instead of 
following the direction of the bark, separated from it, 
and appeared to approach Geneva by the right bank of 
the lake ; the image moving from east to west, while 
the bark moved from north to south. When the image 
separated from the object it was of the same dimensions 
as the bark, but it diminished as it receded, so that 
when the phenomenon ceased it was reduced one half. 

This remarkable class of optical illusions is ac- 
counted for, as follows: — Whenever a ray of light 
strikes obliquely a medium less refracting than that in 
which it was previously moving, it is turned back into 
the original medium, and a direction is given to it 
precisely similar to that which would have been the 
result of a reflection taking place at the common 
surface of the two mediums. Now the sand of the 
desert, or the surface of the sea, being heated by the 
rays of the sun, communicates a portion of its warmth 
to the stratum of air immediately superposed, which 
then dilates, and becomes consequently less dense, and, 
therefore, less refracting than the superior strata. In 
this state of 'hings when an observer regards an object 
a little elevated above the horizon, the rays, which in 
coming to him traverse a layer of air of uniform density, 
will exhibit it in the natural position, while the light 
directed obliquely towards the surface of the earth will 
be bent downward, and so come to the eye as if from 
an object placed inversely and below the former. This 
explains the inverted image below the object; but our 
limits will not allow us to apply the principle to a de- 
tailed explanation of all the forms of the phenom* 



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DM Wnie* we ha*» stated. We must therefore cm* 
t#fi€ ourselves idth repeating that these effect* molt 
from a partial alteration m the density of tht atmo- 
sphere, and the unusual operations to which the light 
is in consequence subjected In coming to the eye. It 
is not neeesiary f hut the alteration should be a decrease 
of density, since, as thfl two opposite states of the at- 
mosphere produce the same effects, the mirage at so* it 
often occasioned by the increase of density in the lower 
stratum of the atmosphere from the quantity of water 
which it holds in solution. 

We do not until 1797 find any but the mutt super* 
fleial notice* of the mirage. In thai year Mr. Huddart 
and Mr. Vince communicated instances of the pheno- 
menon to the Royal Society, and inquired into the cause* 
which produced such illusions. Subsequently M. Mange 
in Egypt, and Dr. Wollastott in England, simulta- 
neously occupied themselves in the same researches, 
and, arriving" at the same conclusion?, theif labours 
established the theory of the mirage on its present 
basis. The latter philosopher, to whom science is so 
much indebted, indicated very simple means tor the 
artificial production of the most remarkable peculiarities 
of the illusion. He usually employed fluids for this 
purpose ; but wc shall adduce one very easy experiment 
of a different character. Dr. Wollaston took a red hot 
poker and looked along the side of it at a paper iO or 
12 feet distant. A perceptible refraction took place at 
a distance of three-eighths of an inch from it. A letter 
more than three-eighths of an inch distant appeared 
erect as usual ; at a less distance there was A faint 
reversed image of it ; and still nearer to the poker was a 
second erect image. Sir David Brewster has also since 
contributed to extend our knowledge of the subject, and 
succeeded in obtaining Very natural and beautiful imi- 
tations of the phenomena of the mirage, by tile simple 
method of holding a heated iron Over a miss of water. 
As the heat descends through the fluid there is a regular 
variation of density, which gradually increases from the 
surface to the bottom. If the heated iron be withdrawn 
and a cold body substituted in its place, or e\er\ If the 
air be allowed to act alone, the superior strata of water 
Mill give out their heat so as to have an increase of 
density from the surface to a certain depth l>elow it. 
Through the medium thus constituted, all the pheno- 
mena of unusual refraction may be seen ir * u - ' — * 
beautirlll manner, the variation of density 
duced by heat alone. Sir David firewstc 
produced the same effects with plates of | 
in applying the heat in different ways to 
remarkable phenomenon of Dover Castle 
readily imitated. 



TEMPERANCE. 

{From t/19 '* jlmtricun Almanav. for 18&4. 

Tmk evils of intemperance and drunkenness 
known and lamented ever since the means < 
tkm were discovered ; but since the method 
out of extracting alcohol from fermented 
juices, these evils have been multiplied a tho 
Jn tin's country, more than twenty years sta 
of distilled spirit, under different names, had 
general, and the vice of intemperance so pi 
to excite the fears of patriots and Christlai 
for the national morals, but for the existence 
institutions of government, learning, end rell 
In the yea* 1813 a society was organized 
fry the name of the • Massachusetts Society i 
pression of Intemperance.' The objects of t\ 
as expressed in its constitution and first rep< 
suppress the " too free use" of distilled tyf a 
as drink ; to substitute some other and wnoiesome i 
drink for labourers in the place of" this " pokon ;" and I 



to I puwu g t tad de awuy Hie custom ef offering it m a 
token of friendship of hospitality, For a number of 
years this soeiety was considerably active and decidedly 
useful i and its influence has been more or less salutary 
till the present time. Bui no great and striking pro- 
gress was made in the cause of Temperance till the for- 
mation of the American Temperance Society in 1826. 
The object of this latter society, from its commence- 
ment, has been to do away all ute of ardent or distilled 
spirit as drink; to promote temperance by means of 
entire abstinence from alcohol. The members of this 
society, and the members of societies auxiliary to it, are 
pledged to abstain from the use of ardent spirit, esccpt 
as medicine. Through the agency, direct and indirect, 
of the American Temperance Society, great and sur- 
prising changes have taken place in this country in rela- 
tion to the use of ardent spirit ; and the subject has 
attracted the attention of moat of the nations in Europe, 

The alffiost # universal use of anient spirit in this 
country arose ircc causes : fimt, from 

the love of < 16 our race ; secondly^ 

from the cheapness ana ease with Which excitement 
could be obtained from a small quantity of alcohol ; and 
thlttUvt from the verv general belief; that the use of a 
small ho* Words* the temperate use of 

it* m From this last cause, hoWeVor, 

more than from all other causes, no doubt, arose the 
prevailing use of ardent spirit, and, of course, almost all 
the evils of intemperance and drunkenness in the 
eotmtrv. The belief; that a moderate use of it was 
good for the stomach, the spirits, the blood, and physical 
strength, had taken, as is well known, stronir and deep 
hold upon the pubis tew and 

admitted, that it wat to drink 

much $ but almost ev he same 

time, that it Was right i little. 

Now this belief was either correct or incorrect. If 
correct, the proper course was to drink ardent spirit 
moderately \ and it was the proper business of Tempo 
ranee Societies to exert their influence to keep the tem- 
perate users temperate, and to bring the intemperate 
urftrs to the same practice. 

But if the belief in question was grossly incorrect, 
then the proper course was, not only to call the public 
attention ro the enormoue and growing evils of intern* 
trance* but if possible, to undeceive the public mind 
concerning the nature end use of ardent spirit; and 
tons to lay the foundation broad and deep tor the ulti- 
mate and entire suppression of the use of It as a common 
Iftafc. 

Fortunately for the cause at humanity, the truth on 
his subject was at length not only perceived, but felt ; 
km! through the active labours of the friends of tempe* 
>anee, within the last seven years, Vast numbers have 
been fully convinced that distilled spirit u*ed as a drink 
* not good but injurious attd poisonous ; that the use 
if k is not fitted to the physical constitution or moral 
ttndifion of the human family. 

AH sorts of arguments, bearing Upon the subject, 
mve been brought forward to change (he pubHe mind: 
Kit the most successful argument has been that derived 
from personal experience. All that have been in the 
tabH of using ardent aplfit, whether moderately or 
mmodertetfly, and have exchanged the habit for that of 
mtfre abstinence from it* have fteelafed, without a 
tnowd exception, (hat they ore decidedly better without 
t than they ever wer* with \u 

This argument, from personal experience, to plain, 

^facf ical, and perfectly unanswerable. It eafi be Whder- 
rtoot! without studying books of anatomy, Chemistry, or 
fterlteine. ft caw be brought to the test by every 
It-inker of ardent spirit, temperate ot intemperate, who 
wilt take the pain* to try it. And the friends of tern- 
peraitee maintain, that the eaperieaee of the vast nun> 



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11 



ktrtwb* have tried it and found it perfectly ■atiefaetory, 
added to the admitted evils of tatemaerance, lay upon 
the remaining drinkers of ardent spirit the strongest 
mora) obligation to make the experiment of abstinence, 
end to make it fairly end fttlhr. 

Since the formation of the American Temperance 
Society in 1*25, more than 5000 temperance societies 
have been formed, aod more than twenty of them State 
societiee, within the United fttatet, — comprising many 
men of the first rmpcetahility for character talent*, and 
influence ; and the whole number of members amount* 
tp about a million. And it ts believed, that the tem- 
perance reformation ha* exerted a very salutary in- 
fluence upon the persou*! habits of a BtiU greater num- 
ber of persons who have not united with any temperance 
society. 

It is stated in the Sixth Report of tUe American 
Temperance Society, that, since the temperance refor- 
mation commenced in this country, more than VDUO 
persons have discontinued the business of making ardent 
spirit, ami more than 6*000 left off selling it;— that 
more than fiOOD drunkards, having ceased to use in- 
toxicating drinks, have become sober men; that 700 
vessels are now navigated without using it ; and though 
thev visit every clime, at all seasons of the year, and 
make the longest and most difficult voyages, the men 
are uniformly better in all respects than when they used 
it ; that out of ninety-seven vessels belonging to New 
Bedford, Massachusetts, seventy-five sail without ardent 
spirit ; and that, on account of the increased safety to 
prpperty, it has become common for insurance com- 
panies to insure those vessels which carry no spirituous 
liquors for a less premium than others, 

The reformation has exerted a visible and most 
happy influence on a great many towns and villages ; 
on manufacturing establishments of various lands ; on 
communities engaged in agricultural employments, and 
on the labouring classes of all pursuits. Of these 
classes, the least exhausted by fatigue, the most cheer- 
ful and happy at the dose of the day, and the most 
refreshed and invigorated when the morning returns, 
are they who make no use of distilled spirit as drink. 
But notwithstanding much bee been done in the way of 
reform, very, very much remains to he done. The use 
of ardent spirit as drink is still a great national cala- 
mity, as well as national sin ; and great unpedimetits 
still lie in the way of its removal. 



Advantage of Activity— As animal power is exhausted 
exactly in proportion to the time during w hi ch it is acting, 
as well as in proportion to the intensity of fare exerted, 
there may often he a great saving of it by dmmg work 
quickly, although with a little more exertion durmg the 
time. Suppose two men ef eenal weight to ascend the same 
stair, one of whom takes only a minute to reach the top, 
and the other takes four mixmtes, it will east the first little 
more men a fourth pa* nf the ftajgne which it costs the 
second, because the eathemtipn w in prnpartjop to the lime 
during which the muscles am acting. The «ech mam 
may have exerted perhaps cue rwanfiath mem leree m the 
first instant to mve his heir the greater vcfcx.Yf , whit* was 
afterwards continued, hot 9m efev supported ^a lead few- 
times as long.~.4mo#> ' flYcaunft o/ Phytic*: 



THE CHBT A«, O* MtfXTWG UWPAED 

The state of tomeejiowfimi, er reriarr, peefcaya, of earn- 
jugation to man, in which many animals (and we allude 
more especially to those of the class mammalia) are 
born and bred, constitutes not only a curious and 
interesting feature in the review we take of nature, but 
# affords a wide subject for speculation and inouiry. 
Some animals, as far *s we -may trace bade the records 
of history, appear from the earliest nwwtnngs of society 



to have been, as now, the slaves or the compani *w* of 
man ; se that not only is their origin enveloped fa *u^ 
seurity, but in some instances at least, it may admit or 
a doubt, whether the wild races of the animals re- 
ferred to arc not rather to be regarded as tlie descend 
ants of a domestic stock, which at a remote epoch has 
by some fortuitous accident been left to itself,— or 
has brought forth a progeny under circumstances, 
which, compelling them to a life of freedom, led them 
to become the forefathers of a wild and untamed imce. 
This, however, is but a speculation, and as such u* 
leave it. 

If there are some animals which seem created 
expressly for the use of man, — animals whose interests 
are united with his, or which constitute no mean portion 
of the wealth of civilized nations, and in met require 
the care of man as much as man requires their invalu- 
able services, —there are on the other hand a few which 
yield reluctantly to his supremacy, are in bondage to 
rigid discipline, and wear with impatience the yoke of 
servitude, subdued by fear alone. These, neverthe- 
less, he has made subservient to his will, and that rather 
by availing himself of their strong instinctive propensities, 
than by modifying in any degree their fixed and unalter- 
able character. This is itself no easy task, and in order 
to accomplish it, it is requisite that the animal be taken 
voung, and subjected early to a due system of education, 
in order that habits of obedient submission may be 
formed, and that the fear of man may grow with its 
growth. These reflections suggest themselves as we 
turn from the contemplation of the dog to that of the 
chetah, or hunting leopard of India. Both are car- 
nivorous ; both prey upon the flesh of slaughtered 
animal*; both are naturally ferocious; and both are 
used by man iu hunting down Ins game. In the dog, 
however, we t nd an aptness and a docility which render 
him less the slave than the friend and companion of 
his master, whose actions and looks be watches with 
solicitude, and to whom lie evinces unshaken fidelity. 
The character of the chetah is the counterpart of all 
this; such as it is when in a state of freedom, Unit 
is it also when in bondage. 

The chetah {Jet i* jit bat a) belongs to the typical genus 
(fda) of the " carnassiers " of Cuvier, though in one 
point it offers a slight departure of form from the group 
with which it is associated ;-*~we allude to the semi- 
retractiie condition of the talons. If we examine the 
talon* of the lion or tiger, we find them capable of 
being withdrawn into a sheath, so that unless when 
brought into action they are completely hidden. This 
retractabilitr results from the mechanism of the joint 
uniting the last phalangal bone to the one which pre 
oedee S, no that the former bene, which is paetiejiy en- 
cased in the talon or hooked nail, is allowed to pass by 
the inner aide of its predecessor. The retraction i* 
involuntarily effected by a lateral ligament, whica 
acts as a sort of spring, and by the natuml action 
nf the extensor muneles of the fore-arm operating hv 
mca.no of tendons on Ike bones to which these formi- 
dable enables are attached. Jiow, in the chetah, the 
talons are ai best but partially retractile from the laxity 
of the ligaments, and, consequently, are more worn and 
blunted at the points than : s the case in the lion, tiger, 
Ims* ; hemdea this, the paw is less rounded and eat- 
ft&c, and, in mot, more approaching thai of the dog hi 
Us general form Chan is to be found ia any other of Liu* 
genus. In anatomical conformation, however, as well 
as in disposition, the chetah is strictly feline. 

The chetah is a native of India, where it is trained 
tor the chase ; and also of Africa. It is as large, or 
nearly so, as the leopard, but is superior in height, 
owing to the length of its limbs, which are slender and 
tapering ; its hody also is less robust, and reminds one, 



or 



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[January 25,* 1S$4 



in some degree, of that of the greyhound. The fur is 
more than moderately full, and of a yellowish fawn- 
colour, beautifully covered with round black spots ; and 
a distinct stripe of this colour passes from the inner 
angle of the eye to the mouth. A thin hog-like mane 
runs down the back of the neck. The forehead and outline 
of the profile are convex ; the eye is very fine, large, and 
expressive. In Col. Sykes's Catalogue of Animals found 
in the Deccan (see * Proceedings of the Committee of 
Science and Correspondence of the Zoological Society,' 
Part i. p. 102), he observes that domestication produces 
a difference in the fur of the * cheetah which has led to 
the supposition of there being two species (that which is 
maned being assigned exclusively to Africa, termed felis 
jubfita, — the other felis venaiica) ; whereas the truth is 
that the " skin of the wild animal has a rough coat, in 
which the mane is marked ; while domesticated animals 
from the same part of the country are destitute of mane, 
and have a smooth coat/' Hence the supposition of 
there being two species falls to the ground. 

In the ' Field Sports of India,' th<> mode of coursing 
with the chetah is thus described : — " They are led out 
in chains with blinds over their eyes, and sometimes 
carried out in carts ; and when antelopes or other deer 
are seen on a plain, should any of them be separated 

fjmm tha rpst. thp ohptnh'a hpA/1 ia hrmi<rhr to fara it. 



the blinds are removed, and the chain taken off. Me 
immediately crouches and creeps along with his belly 
almost touching the ground, until he gets within a short 
distance of the deer, who, although seeing him ap- 
proach, appears so fascinated, that he seldom attempts 
to run away. The chetah then makes a few surprising 
springs, and seizes him by the neck. If many deer are 
near each other, they often escape by flight; their 
number, I imagine, giving them confidence, and pre- 
venting their feeling the full force of that fascination, 
which to a single deer produces a sort of panic, and 
appears to divest him of the power, or even inclination, 
to run away or make resistance. It is clear that they 
must always catch them by stealth, or in the manner I 
have described, for they are not so swift even as com- 
mon deer." 

To this account we may add that, should the che- 
tah miss his aim, he desists from further pursuit, and 
slinks back to his master, who replaces the hood, and 
reserves him for another chance. When he is suc- 
cessful, the ferocity of his nature at once displays itself, 
so that, to recover the prey, the keeper is obliged to be 
extremely cautious, enticing him with meat carried for 
that purpose. These beautiful creatures are rare in 
collections in this country : but the menagerie of the 

Znnlnirical Sncietv contains thre* nrfrmr fin* AnAf*im*nq s 



[Chetah.] 



•»• The Oflce of the Society for the Diffusion of U*fu) Knowledge fe at 69, Lbeola't lei Fid*. 

LONDON *— CHARLES KNIOHT. S3, LUDGATJI STREET. 

Printed by Willi ah Ci-owks, Doke Street, Lambeth. 



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117.] DMMBber 31, 1833, to January 31, 1834. 

THE HISTORY AND PRESENT STATE OF THE POST-OFFICE. 



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34 



MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT Of 



[January 31, 



In ike advanced state of civilization to which we have 
*pw attained in this country, wo possess many ad- 
vantages of the highest importance, which are indeed 
essential to our daily comfort, but which, presenting 
themselves with unfailing regularity, pass without ob- 
servation, and almost without our being conscious of 
enjoying them. Among the principal of these may be 
reckoned an efficient and well-regulated system for the 
transmission of letters, not only through every district 
and into every nook and cranny of the British islands, 
but also to and from every part of our wide-spread 
dominions, as well as ever} 7 other civilized country on 
the feabitable globe. 

Vfo cannot, perhaps, more forcibly present to our 
minds the great value of this institution than by imagin- 
ing what must be the condition of this country, in all 

its various relations, if a sudden stop were put to the 

activ^ Operations of our Post-office. What a check 

would tots occasion to profitable commerce! How 

impoHafttly would it interfere with that proper pro- 

portiaJity of supply to demand which is essential to 

the oojajbrtablt existence of every weli-peopled country ! 

What losses would sometimes be occasioned by gluts, — 

what privation, at other times, by scarcity, — if the 

channels for information were closed by which the 

wants of each community arc now regularly made 

known to every other! Nor would it be found the 

least ajBrittg the mi; 

would bring about, t] 

affection on account 

separated would thee 

relief. But it is u 

topic, since everybc 

destruction of our Po 

the social body one 

capable of receiving 
in a very early su 

country would perc< 

messenger* for the 1 

laws to every part 

necessity would be c< 

be found advantage* 

to organise a system 

vice miyhi be diminis 

first, apeeUl messeng 

Mesra occasion for 

slap would be to apj 

assign particular stat 

of these couriers shot 

from one to the oth 

celerity in their tran 

before individuals, s< 

this institution, would 

the transmission of 

would willingly pay 

for suck a privilege. 

considered as at once 

for extending it. It 

tion of society that 

country would be so 

letters would come I 

state. The Roman 

the same institutions 

exitJlM ill Persia in 

riii^JstWlU must ha 

the systematic plans i 

veyance of intelligen 

fact, it is only in tim 

public convenience 1 

thai tbey could have 

ThrW centuries ago 

that were employed in Europe tor the conveyance of 

letters from one person of distinction to another, made 

ilarir way slowly and laboriously over countries thinly 



populated, and almost wfthoftt roads. It is thesante 
at the present day in the wfld districts of South America. 
Louis XI. of France, by a royal ordinance, dated the 
19th of June, 1-164, established a system of posts in 
that kingdom, but only for the particular use of the 
court, and that he might be the sooifer and more cer- 
tainly informed of any political movements in his own 
kingdom and in neighbouring states. In the beginning 
of the thirteenth eeotasry pedestrian messengers were 
maintained as a part of the establishment of the Uni- 
versity of Paris, and these messengers were employed 
in conveying money and letters to and from that capital 
for the students of the university, who were at that time 
collected there from almost every country of Europe. 
The first organized plan for the transmission of private 
correspondence in France was formed in 1619, when a 
public letter-office was opened. A few years earlier 
than this last-mentioned date, the Count de Taxis esta- 
blished posts in Germany, at his own expense and as a 
private speculation. The scheme was, however, soon 
adopted by the government, on which occasion the Em- 
peror Matthias, in acknowledgment of his public spirit, 
gave to the Count, in fte£ the charge of postmaster 
under himself an ^his was in 1616. 

Posts, fbr th of travellers, cer- 

tainly existed in he middle of the 

sixteenth centurv : for. bv tne 2nd and 3d Edward VI., 

st- horses might be 
mile. There was 
he reign of Eliza- 
urn the ' Feedera,' 
of postmaster for 
iuccessor, James I. 
narch, and winch 
f one Matthew de 
iveyance of letters 
the authority just 
of postmaster for 
rles I., in 1632, to 
igs, and the object 
> he " (he better 
rchants." In the 
ind and Scotland 
* the said Thomas 
$e to be charged 
This was in 1635; 
only a few of the 
rertaintv as to the 
•s committed to it. 
ith abuses in the 
iperseded in 16 10, 
vas committed to 
he control of the 
In the confusion 
:he civil war, con- 
occasioned in the 
he advantages of 
sufficiently appa- 
r, into disuse, and 
p by Parliament. 
*e appointment of 
lth, was appointed 
Houses of Pailia- 
ls Chairman of a 
ons to which the 
ferred, in order to 
ihould be set upon 
is office, Mr. Pri 
weekly conveyance 
igdom, on a plan 
sen ices of se\end 
postmasters, wnoat salaries nad amounted to 7i ; /. 
per annum. 

In the same year the Common Council < { the city ot 



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London attempted to establish another Post-office in op- 
position to that conducted by Prideaux ; but this specula- 
lion of the citizens was checked by the House of Com- 
mons, who declared, by a resolution passed the 2 1st of 
March, 1 649, that " the office of Postmaster is and ought 
to be in the sole power and disposal of Parliament/' 
The office was remodelled by Parliament during the Pro- 
tectorate, and rates of postage were then adopted which 
were continued until the reign of Queen Anne. The 
inviolability of private correspondence was by no means 
recognised even by so popular an assembly as the 
Commons' House of Parliament during the Protectorate. 
So openly, indeed, was the contrary doctrine avowed, 
that we find it stated in the preamble to an ordinance 
of 1657, as a strong recommendation in favour of the 
institution of posts, that " they will be the best means 
to discover and prevent many dangerous and wicked 
designs against the Commonwealth." Whether any 
particular and responsible officer was then exclusively 
permitted to ice, does 

not appear. 'ticularly 

designated mi and even 

opened, by vi e of his 

Majesty's prir oceeding 

which is not y strong 

grounds ; white any similar vioiaiion or me irust reposed 
in the Post-office, if committed without this warrant, 
has been rendered highly penal by act of Parliament. 
Some further improvements were introduced after the 
Itestoration, by the act 12 Car. II. cap. 35, under 
which the king was empowered to " settle a Post-office 
and appoint a governor." 

The progress of this important political and com- 
mercial engine appears to have been very rapid about 
this time. Before Mr. Prideaux's appointment, the 
establishment had cost 7000/. per annum beyond its 
income. In 1653 the Post-office revenue for Eng- 
land, Scotland, and Ireland was farmed at 10,000/. 
per annum. At the time of the Restoration it brought 
in double that sum. By the Act 15 Car. II., cap. 14, 
this branch of the public income was settled upon 
the Duke of York, afterwards James II., and his 
heirs male ; and, in the year of that king's accession, 
a further act declared that this revenue, which then 
amounted to 65,000/. per annum, should belong to the 
king and his successors, as part of their private estate 
for ever, and that consequently it should not be ac- 
counted for to parliament. This grant was resumed 
by the legislature at the Revolution; and in 1699 the 
revenue derived from the Post-office brought upwards 
of 90,00 '/. to the Exchequer. During all this time the 
same rates of postage had been levied, so that the 
growth of revenue gives an accurate measure of the 
constantly increasing utility of the institution. The 
rates have since that time been frequently increased, 
but the amount of correspondence throughout the 
kingdom has, notwithstanding, been multiplied in a 
si ill greater degree. 

Humboldt informs us, in his * Vues Pittoresques 
des Cordilleres,' that, in order to maintain a post 
communication between the shores of the South 
Pacific and the province of Jae'n de Brancamoros, 
Indians are employed, who during two days descend 
the river Guancabamba, or Cham ay a, and afterwards 
the Amazon river as far as Toraepcnda. The courier, 
before he commits himself to the water, wraps the few 
letters, with which he is charged monthly, sometimes in 
. a handkerchief, and at other times in a species of 
drawers called gjtayuco^ and this he disposes in the 
form of a turban round his head. In this turban he 
also places the large knife or cutlass with which he is 
always provided, less as a means of defence than to 
assist him in clearing the underwood while making his 
way through the forests. The Guancabamba is not 



navigable, by reason of a great number of falb and 
rapids ; these the postman passes by land, taking again 
to the water as soon as all danger from them is over. 
To assist him in swimming, the Indian provides himself 
with a log of very light wood, generally the trunk pf 
the bombax. These men, who are known in the country 
as the swimming-couriers—^/ coreo que nada, have no 
occasion to encumber themselves with provisions* their 
wants being abundantly supplied by the hospitable 
inhabitants of the cottages which they pass on the 
banks of the rivers. 

In the year 1702, at the breaking out of the war 
consequent upon the French Revolution, this branch 
of public revenue produced 368,970/. to the Exchequer ; 
in I SO I , the year of the Peace of Amiens, the sum 
realized from that source was more than doubled : being 
843,976/.; and in 1814, the year of the Treaty or Paris, 
1,532,153/. was the net amount of revenue arising from 
the postage of letters. Since that time, the income from 
this source has not increased. The year 1625 produced 
the largest amount of Post-office revenue, it having 
then reached 1,670,219/.; and in each year since the 
sum has been between 1,500,000/. and, 1,600,000/. 

The utility of the Post-office, even as a source of 
revenue, must not be appreciated solely by the amount 
of money which it yields directly to the state, since 
it must be considered also as auxiliary to other 
branches of public income. An institution by which 
the facility of frequent, punctual, and quick communi- 
cation is secured to the country, has higher claims 
to consideration than as a merely financial object ; it is 
essential to the purposes of government, may be made 
to subserve all the ends of national policy, and i» ne- 
cessary to the daily comfort and convenience of almost 
every individual in the kingdom. It has been justly 
remarked that, " in a prosperous state of the country, 
the productiveness of this branch of revenue, in a finan- 
cial calculation, will be measured by the proportion in 
which, under judicious management, the institution is 
made to contribute to the interests, the convenience, 
and the habitual indulgence of the community." 

There cannot be a stronger proof of the truth 'e^ this 
remark than is furnished by the history of the British 
Post-office during the last years of the eighteenth 
century. The improvements suggested by Mr. Palmer 
in the mode of circulating letters through Great Britain 
and Ireland, were, after much opposition, first partially 
introduced in 1784 ; and were fully carried into practice, 
as regards England, within the two following years. 
In the twenty years that followed the adoption of Mr# 
Palmer's plan, the gross annual receipts of the Post- 
office department were trebled, and, by economical ar- 
rangements, itc net produce was very nearly qmntupled* 
This extraordinary increase is no doubt in part to be 
referred to the peculiar circumstances of the country, 
which, during the greater part of the period just men- 
tioned, experienced a high degree of excitement in all 
its branches, both political and commercial, far beyond 
what it had ever previously undergone ; but this rejnark 
hardly applies to the period that preceded the war of 
1792, in which year the net revenue of the Post-office 
was already double what it had been in 1784. 

The improvements suggested and carried into effect 
by Mr. Palmer were so simple in their character, and 
of so very obvious a nature, as to render it surprising" 
that it should have been left to an individual uncon- 
nected with the establishment to suggest them. Still 
more difficult is it to account for the fact that, when 
once suggested, their simplicity and reasonableness did 
not at once overcome even official prejudices, or at least 
check that avowed opposition by which eveu a trial of 
them was sought to be prevented. 

Mr. Palmer, who was a proprietor of the theatre at 
Bath, observed that the post which left that city on 

P % 



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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 



[January 81, 



[The Swimming Couriers of Peru.] 



Monday night, did not deliver its letters in London until 
2 or 3 o'clock in the afternoon of the following Wednes- 
day, and sometimes even later ; the letters were then 
delivered in London at different times of the day, as each 
post arrived. On the other hand, the Diligence coach, 
which left on Monday afternoon, arrived in time suffi- 
ciently early for the delivery of packets by 10 o'clock 
on the Tuesday morning. The charge upon a single 
letter sent by the post from Bath to London was then 
only four pence, and the expense by the Diligence, for 
booking, carriage, and porterage, "amounted to two 
shillings ; but so important was it found by the trades- 
men of Bath to insure an early delivery of their letters, 
that not only were they generally willing to incur this 
larger charge by sending their letters in the form of 
coach parcels, but the porters of the inn whence the 
packets were delivered were usually stimulated to extra 
haste by the promise, in that case, of an additional 
payment, and which promise formed part of the direc- 
tion. 

The slow rate of travelling here mentioned was by 
no means peculiar to the Bath mail. The post of 
Monday night from London reached Norwich, Wor- 
cester, or Birmingham, only on Wednesday morning, 
and did not arrive at Exeter until Thursday morning at 
9 o'clock. Dr. Cleland, in his ' Statistical Account of 
Glasgow,' tells us that before the introduction of mail 
coaches into that part of the kingdom in 1788, the 
course of post from London to Glasgow was five 
days, the letters being then carried round by Edin- 
burgh, This writer mentions a curious circumstance, 
which shows how slowly improvement was allowed to 
proceed in those days. Only five London mails had 
usually arrived in Glasgow during the week, it not 
being customary to receive or despatch letters at or 
from Edinburgh on Sunday ; but when the mail-coach 
conveyance had been brought under Mr. Palmer's im- 
provements as far as Carlisle, it occurred to the managers 
of the Post-office that the sixth mail for Glasgow, which 



the Sunday regulation of the Edinburgh Office pre- 
vented being passed through that medium, might be 
conveyed by the mail coach to Carlisle, and forwarded 
thence to Glasgow. By this means the sixth mail reached 
Glasgow in four days, while the conveyance of the other 
five continued, for a year beyond this time, to occupy 
five days. It appears to have required the whole of 
that time in order to discover that tjie five mails, which 
required five days to reach Glasgow by Edinburgh, 
might, like the sixth, be carried by Carlisle in four 
days. 

The letter-bags from the Post-office were, previously 
to 1784, entrusted to boys who were ill-paid, and 
frequently of very doubtful characters. They travelled 
upon miserable horses, and were equally unable to defend 
themselves from the attacks of robbers, or to escape by 
flight. In fact, the waylaying of these boys for the pur- 
pose of robbery was at that time an affair of constant 
occurrence, and often not without suspicion of collusion 
on the part of the carriers. 

.. The principal feature in the improvement suggested 
by Mr. Palmer was the discontinuance of this horse- 
post, and the employment of coaches, which, in con- 
sideration of their liability to attack from robbers, 
should each be provided with an armed man to guard 
them. It formed a part of the proposed improvement 
that the times of departure of the coaches bearing mails 
from places in the country should be so regulated as to 
insure their nearly simultaneous arrival in London at 
an early hour of the morning, and that the whole should 
quit the metropolis at the same hour in the evening. 
The first mail coach upon Mr. Palmer's plan left Lon- 
don for Bristol on the evening of the 2nd of August, 
1784. 

As we have seen, the business of the London Post- 
office has grown up from very small beginnings. At 
first a house of moderate size was found to afford suffi- 
cient accommodation for carrying forward all its details. 
As the magnitude of these increased, additions were 



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from time to time made to the building, and adjoining 
houses were adapted and occupied ; but at length these 
expedients would no longer avail. The establishment 
outgrew every possibility of sufficiently enlarging the 
premises; and it became absolutely necessary to ex- 
change the confined and incommodious apartments 
which had long been occupied in Lombard Street, for 
a building which, being expressly erected for the pur- 
pose, should afford conveniences and facilities unattain- 
able in the former office. Accordingly, in 1815, an Act 
of Parliament was passed, authorizing certain commis- 
sioners to make choice of a convenient site, and to grant 
compensation to the parties whom it would be necessary 
to eject, in order to make room for the new building. 
A very considerable time was expended in this pre- 
liminary business of clearing and preparing the ground, 
so that the first stone was not laid until May, 1 824 ; 
and it was only on the 23rd of September, 1829, full 
fourteen years after the passing of the Act of Parlia- 
ment just mentioned, that the new building was com- 
pleted and opened for the transaction of business. The 
situation chosen is exceedingly convenient, being 
nearly in the heart of the metropolis. The building 
stands at the junction of St. Martin's-le-Grand with 
Newgate Street, and very near to St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral. The perspective view which we have given of 
the principal front, presents a faithful representation 
of its elevation. It will be seen that this front is com- 
posed of three porticos of the Ionic order of archi- 
tecture, one of four columns being placed at each 
end, and one of six columns forming the centre; this 
last is surmounted by a pediment. On the frieze, over 
the columns of the centre portico, is the inscription 
Georoio Quarto Rege, MDCCCXXIX. The great 
value of the ground and buildings in this populous part 
of the city has occasioned the area upon which the New 
Post-office is built to be of very limited extent. The 
street in which the principal part is placed, is tolerably 
wide ; but the sides to the north and south, and the 
back front in Foster Lane, are all closely beset with 
houses. 

The building is about 389 feet long, 130 feet wide, 
and 64 feet high ; it is built externally of Portland stone, 
and, with the exception of the principal front, is entirely 
plain, and without any attempt at architectural display. 
The entrances to the building are through the central 
portico in the west or principal side, and by a corre- 
sponding doorway in the east front in Foster Lane. 
The space between these two points is occupied by the 
Grand Public Hall, which is 80 feet long, by about 
60 feet wide, divided into a centre and two aisles, by 
two ranges of six columns, in the manner shown in 
the engraving at page 40 ; these columns, which have 
corresponding pilasters, are of the Ionic order, con- 
structed of Portland stone, and standing upon pedestals 
of granite. The centre of the hall is so much higher 
than the side aisles as to admit of the insertion of 
windows, also shown in the engraving, and by which 
it is principally lighted. 

Entering from the principal front, the offices on the 
right hand are appropriated to the Foreign-letter and 
Twopenny Post departments, the Receiver-general's, 
the Accountant's, and the Secretary's apartments. On 
the opposite, or northern, side are the Inland, the Ship- 
letter, and the Newspaper offices. At the eastern, or 
Foster Lane, end of this aisle, is a staircase leading to 
the Letter-bill', Dead, Mis-sent, and Returned Letter 
offices. In the eastern front, north of the centre, is a 
vestibule where the letter-bags are received, and whence 
they are despatched from and to the mails. The Inland 
office communicates with this vestibule, and is 88 feet 
long, 56 feet wide, and 28 feet high. The Letter Car- 
riers' office, which adjoins, is 103 feet long, 35 wide, 
and 33 high. The letters to and from the West Indies, 



3T 

and the Continent of North America, have an office 
expressly appropriated to tnem, and which is likewise 
on this side of the building. The Comptroller's and 
Mail-coach offices are also in this quarter. 

It might occasion some confusion if the communica- 
tion between the offices in the northern and southern 
divisions of the building were carried on through 
the public hall. This disadvantage is obviated by 
means of a tunnel, which runs under the hall, in 
which the letters are conveyed between the depart- 
ments by the aid qf ingeniously contrived machinery. 

The basement is vaulted, and consequently fire-proof. 
It contains the Armoury and Mail-Guards' room, the 
Servants' offices ; and also an apparatus for warming 
the building by means of heated air, a patent gas- 
meter, and a governor for regulating the supply of 
gas to between 700 and 800 Argand burners dis- 
tributed through the offices and passages. 

The Board-room, which is 37 feet long and 24 feet 
broad, the Secretary's rooms and his clerks' offices, are all 
on the first floor, and communicate by long passages with 
the Solicitor's offices, and some others of minor impor- 
tance. The second and third stories are occupied by 
sleeping apartments for the clerks of the foreign-letter 
office, who are obliged to be constantly upon the spot 
to receive the foreign mails, which arrive at all 
hours. 

The building is altogether exceedingly well ar- 
ranged for the convenience of the public, as well as the 
officers employed in its various departments, and is 
creditable to the taste and judgment of the architect, 
Mr. Smirke. 

The London Post-office establishment comprises 
three principal departments, the Inland office, the 
Foreign office, and the Twopenny Post office. In con- 
nexion with the Inland office is the Ship-letter office, 
for receiving and despatching letters for the colonies 
and foreign parts by private trading vessels, the letters 
so conveyed being subjected to a less rate of postage 
than letters transmitted by packets in the pay of Go- 
vernment. Letters passing to and from the colonies 
come, likewise, within the management of the Inland 
office, in London ; being received in the first instance 
at an out-post, generally Falmouth, whence they are 
forwarded by the local postmasters, in the same manner 
as inland letters. 

The routine business of the Inland office is neces- 
sarily divided among several departments. The prin- 
cipal of these, besides the Ship-letter office, are the 
Bye-letter, the Dead-letter, the Returned-letter, the 
Letter-bill, the Accountant-general's, and the Receiver- 
general's offices : the latter of these officers acts as a 
check upon the Postmaster-general, and consequently 
the appointment of the Receiver-general rests not with 
the Postmaster-general, but with the Lords of the 
Treasury. The Receiver-general holds his office by 
patent. 

It will perhaps exemplify sufficiently our description 
of the various functions of the different officers em- 
ployed in the Post-office, if we describe the ordinary 
routine which is followed in the dairy receipt and 
despatch of letters to and from London. 

In addition to the principal office in £lt. Martin's-le- 
Grand, there are several branch offices and receiving 
houses in different parts of the town, where letters can 
be deposited by the public* These letters are col- 
lected by the letter-carriers at a stated period in the 
evening, which must of course be earlier than the hour 
to which the principal office is continued open; and 
they are conveyed in sealed bags — generally by carts — 
to- St. Martin's-le-Grand. The seals of these bags are 
broken by persons appointed for the purpose ; and their 
contents are thrown out into great baskets, preparatory 
to their being sorted. 



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[January SL, 



' The first operation is that of stamping the teitew : 
this is performed at several large tables, four or more 
persons, according to the pressure of business for the 
night, being employed at each table. This stamping 
is performed by messengers, or by the letter-carriers ; 
and, as they are stamped, one person is employed to 
ascertain the number of letters that pass through the 
office in the evenings 

When the letters are stamped, they are taken away 
to be assorted into about twenty divisions, on as many 
tables, corresponding with the lines of road by which 
they are to be sent. In this first sorting, all those 
letters are placed together which are intended for the 
same line of road, the different heaps being dis- 
tinguished by numbers, as 1, 2, 3, &c. ; and persons 
are employed continually in collecting together the 
corresponding heaps from all these tables in order to 
their being conveyed to other tables where other sorters 
are employed. A certain number of individuals are 
assigned to every road, and by them the letters are 
again assorted for the different places to which they 
are directed. By this division of the labour the work 
is much simplified. It would, indeed, be hardly passible 
to divide at one operation so great a number of letters, 
intended for so great a variety of places, as are brought 
together every evening in the London Post-office. 

The next operation is that of placing the assorted 
letters in bags, previously to which, however, every 
letter is marked with the amount of postage to which it 
is liable ; and an account is taken of the whole amount 
of postage, that the postmaster of the town to which 
they are going may be charged with the same. The 
bags are then sealed, and delivered into the custody of 
the mail-guards. Each of these guards, of course, 
takes charge of the mail-bags for every post-town 
through which the mail-coach, with which he travel*, 
is to pass ; and, to avoid contusion, he places the whole 
number of bags in a large sack, arranging them in the 
inverse order to that in which they are to be delivered* 
For instance, the Dover coach takes the mails for Wel- 
ling, Dartford, Rochester, SUtingbourn, and Can- 
terbury, as well as for the place of its ultimate destina- 
tion. The Dover bag is therefore placed in the bottom 
of* the sack, — that for Canterbury next, — then the 
Sittingbouru bag, and so on ; the one for Welling, 
which will soonest be wanted, being placed nearest to 
the mouth of the sack. The coaches which travel to 
greater distances, and which pass through a great 
number of post towns, must earn' several of these 
sacks, which are always unsealed, for the greater con- 
venience of taking out the bags on arrival at the dif- 
ferent towns. 

From the moment they are delivered into his custody, 
the guard is held responsible for the safety of the letter- 
bags. The box in the hind part of the coach, in which they 
are placed, is secured by a patent lock, the key of which 
is, of course, in the guard's possession. On arriving at a 
post-town, the bag intended for it is delivered ipto the 
custody of the postmaster, who, in his turn, commits to 
the guard any letters which may have been deposited in 
his office, directed to places through which the mail 
will pass; and these additional bags are immediately 
locked up in the coach. 

The mode of proceeding with letters sent from the 
country to London is similar to what has just been 
described. They are stamped and taxed, — that is, the 
amount of postage charged is marked upon them by 
the postmaster, — by whom they are then enclosed in 
sealed bags and given into the custody of the 
guard. 

The arrival of the mail coaches in London from almost 
all parts of the country takes place, as already mentioned, 
as nearly as possible at the same time. In the ordinary 
state of the roads the whole of these coaches usually 



reach the Post-office within naif an hour of each other, 
and between 5 and 6 o'clock in the morning. 

The bags are brought on their arrival by a messenger 
to certain junior clerks called Tick Clerks, who take an 
account of them to see whether all are received, and to 
make a note of any that may be missing, for the informa- 
tion of the superintending president. The bags of each 
mail coach, successively as they arrive, are then distri- 
buted amongst fourteen clerks, two of whom are 
stationed at each of seven tables. The first duty of 
these clerks is to see that each bag is properly secured ; 
each clerk then opens the several bags allotted to him. 
His next duty is to ascertain that the amouut of the 
paid letters is correctly entered upon the bill which the 
postmaster transmits from the country in each bag, 
and to certify that he has done so by writing his initials 
upon the bill. In case of error a second clerk is applied 
to, to check the computation, and the true charge is 
entered in a book kept for the purpose. It is also the 
duty of the fourteen clerks to make transcripts in a 
book of the addresses of letters containing cash or 
trinkets, which the postmasters are instnicted to enter 
upon their bills. 

While the openers have been thus engaged, the 

unpaid and free letters will have been undergoing the 

process of being stamped and subsequently examined, 

the former as to the rates of postage taxed upon them, 

and the latter as to the number of franks, by different 

persons stationed for each purpose at the respective 

tables. If any overcharge or undercharge be discovered, 

J the correct rate of postage is substituted upon the letter, 

! and an entry made of the amount of the corrections in 

! a book kept for the purpose. 

I The business of stamping unpaid letters is per- 
\ formed by sixteen messengers. The paid letters, when 
! checked, as above mentioned, by the opening clerks, are 
! given over to be stamped and examined bv two other 
j clerks. 

' Portions of the letters, as they have undergone tlie 
! process of stamping and examination, are, from time to 
j time, delivered to letter-carriers, who are employed in 
the assorting of them, which in the first place is 
; effected into fourteen grand divisions ; immediately 
\ after which the letters are taken by other letter-carriers, 
j who sort them in divisions corresponding' with the dis- 
I tricU of actual delivery. In the progress of this sorting, 
j the letters are sent in small parcels to the tellers, who 
J cast up the amount of each parcel, and deliver a licket 
of each charge to the check cleik. These parcels are 
then deposited in boxes provided for each district, aud 
subsequently retold by the letter-carrier, by whom they 
are to be accounted for ; and he states the amount of 
his telling to the check clerk, to see that it corresponds 
with the tellers' tickets. The carriers then set out in 
order to deliver the letters; aud in order to expedite 
this business as much as possible, a plan was first put 
in operation wheu the New Post-office was opened 
for business. Those letter-carriers whose walks are at 
a considerable distance from the office, take iheir 
stations in carriages built something in the foim of an 
omnibus, and are conveyed as near as possible to the 
%c&n& of their duties. The postmen are packed in these 
carriages after the same principle adopted in placing 
the mail bags in the sack ; the man who has the greatest 
distance to go gets first into the carriage, while lie who 
is to quit it the earliest gets in the last. By this con- 
trivance there is much less difference than forme; ly 
between the time of delivering letters at the near and 
the more distant parts of the town ; while the greater 
convenience afforded by the enlarged space and wcli- 
considered arrangements of the new office have occa- 
sioned the sorting and other preliminaries to he p;t 
through in much less time than formerly. 

The rates of postage at present payable ui^m inland 



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[January 31, 1884 



In order to found upon the foregoing statements a 
calculation as to the total number of letters passing 
through the London Post-office in the course of the 
year it appears necessary to consider the three days 
riven as comprehending more than one half of the 
week, since the number of letters received and des- 
patched on Monday comprise a great number that 
would have passed on the Sunday had the office been 
open* 

Our space will not admit of inserting more of these 
details from the Report. We must content ourselves 
with stating the amount of postages collected in a few 
of the principal trading cities and towns of the United 
Kingdom during- the years 1831 and 1S32: — 



1331. 


1838. 


. £628,644 


£637,178 


29,864 


28,684 


36,670 


33,887 


15^030 


14,603 


20,963 


20,315 


70,974 


70,018 


52,320 


53,449 


11,163 


11,026 


42,621 


42,758 


35,641 


35,754 


. 101,529 


80,610 


10,769 


11,511 



London • 
Birmingham 
Bristol . . 
Hull . . 
Leeds . . 
Liverpool . 
Manchetfter . 
Sheffield . 
Edinburgh , 
Glasgow 
Dublin . 
Cork . . 

We had intended to have given some particulars of 
the Twopenny Post Branch, but must defer this to a 
future Number. 



;[Hall of the New Port-Office.] 



Die Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge i« at 69, Lincoln'* Inn Field* 
LONDON :— CHARLES KNIGHT, 88, LUDGATB STREET. 
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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[February 1, 1834. 



One of the most voracious 
of carnivorous birds is the 
gigantic Crane, or, as it is 
called in India, the Adju- 
tant (Ciconia argala % 
Temminck) ; which does 
not, however, rank in sys- 
tematic arrangements as a 
bird of prey. The struc- 
ture of the stomach in the 
adjutant corresponds with 
this similarity in habit, 
though the solvent glands 
wre differently formed from 
those of any other bird. 
These glands are not 
placed round the upper 
portion of the stomach, but 
form two circular figures, 
about one inch and a half 
in diameter, on the fore and 
back part of it, each gland 
being composed of five or 
six cells, and these opening 
into one common pipe. 
The gizzard and digastric 
muscle are nearly of the 
same strength with that 
of the craw, and the for- 
mer is lined with a similar 
horny cuticle. 

extended, may well be taken for canoes upon the sur- 
face of a smooth sea ; when on the sand-banks, for men 
and women picking up shell-fish or other things on the 
beach. One of these, a young bird about five feet high, 
was brought up tame, and presented to the chief of the 
Bananas, where Mr. Smeathman lived ; and being ac- 
customed to be fed in the great hall, soon became 
familiar, duly attending that place at dinner-time, and 
placing itself behind its master's chair frequently be- 
fore the guests entered. The servants were obliged to 
watch narrowly, and to defend the provisions with 
switches; but, notwithstanding, it would frequently 
seize something or other, and once purloined a whole 
boiled fowl, which it swallowed in an instant. Its courage 
is not equal to its voracity, for a child of eight or ten 
years old soon puts it to flight with a switch, though 



at first it seems to stand on its defence, by threatening, 
with its enormous bill widely extended, and roaring 
with a loud voice like a bear or tiger. It is an enemy 
to small quadrupeds, as well as b J rds and reptiles, and 
slyly destroys fowls or chickens, though it dares not 
attack a hen openly with her young. Every thing is 
swallowed whole ; and so accommodating is its throat, 
that not only an animal as big as a cat is gulped 
down, but a shin of beef broken asunder serves it but for 
two morsels. It is known to swallow a leg of mutton 
of five or six pounds, a hare, a small fox, &c. After a 
time the bones are rejected from the stomach, which 
seems to be voluntary, for it has been known that an 
ounce or two of emetic tartar given to one of these 
birds produced no effect." — From • Faculties of Birds,' 
in Library of Entertaining Knowledge, just published. 



THE * PLACE OF FIRE," AND NAPHTHA 
SPRINGS OF SHIRWAN. 

The basin of the Caspian Sea is narrowed rn the south 
by the peninsula of Apcheron, on whose southern coast 
stands the fortified town of Bakan, the port of which, 
though difficult of access, is considered the best and 
safest that sea affords. To this circumstance the town 
owes its present measure of importance, if not its first 
foundation. It belongs at present to the Russians, to 
whom it formed a very important acquisition ; but it 
still retains the usual characteristics of a Persian town. 
AboiU two miles to the north-east of the town, the 
gentle slope towards the sea of a low, rocky hill, the 
surface of which is composed of a sandy earth inter- 
mixed with stones, is distinguished as the " Atashghah," 
Vol. III. 



or " Place of Fire." The phenomena in this spot ex* 
hibit in mild, and even useful forms, the elemental 
eruptions, which are generally violent and destructive. 
It is well known that a religious reverence was paid 
to fire by the ancient Persians ; and this superstition is 
still retained by their descendants the Parsees, who now 
chiefly reside about Bombay in Hindostan, and at Yesd 
in Persia. These, and apparently some other natives 
of India, make long and weary pilgrimages to the 
" everlasting fire " of Shirwan, which they consider 
sacred, and where from thirty to forty of them may 
generally be found, subsisting chiefly on such roots as 
the neighbourhood produces. On their arrival they 
find several small and very ancient stone temples, or 
rather arched vaults, from ten to fifteen feet high. 

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These are enclosed by a low wall, and serve brth as the 
chapels and residences of the devotees, by whom, how- 
evei, the central structure, which is the largest, is 
peculiarly appropriated to religious uses. This spot 
has not unaptly been compared to a caravanserai ; and 
each of the apartments is furnished with a fire* or, at 
Forster expresses it, " a small volcano," o* lained by 
the ignition of the gas which issues from the ground, 
and which is conducted to some height above the sur- 
face through a tube or funnel inserted a few inches into 
the ground. The combustion is produced by the appli- 
cation of any but uing subs ance to the extremity of the 
tube, by stopping which it is easily extinguished. The 
flame in the central chapel is, however, constantly burn- 
ing ; and the worshippers are persuaded that it has always 
done so since the fl x>d, and will do so to the end of the 
world ; and that if it were extinguished in this spot it 
would immediately re-appear in another. The flame is 
not much unlike that of spirits of wine. It is of a clear 
pale colour, without smoke, but accompanied by a 
sulphureous vapour, which greatly impedes the respi- 
ration unless the head is held below the surface of the 
flame. It is for this reason probably that the funnels 
are employed to raise the flame about three feet above 
the ground. When the flame is extinguished, a hollow 
sound is heard on applying the ear to the aperture, 
and the rush of a cold current of air is very sensibly 
felt. Besides being an object of adoration, the fire 
serves the devotees for their simple culinary processes, 
and enables them by its warmth to support the severity 
of the winter season in Shirwan. The air they imbibe 
has however an injurious effect on their health. After 
a short residence they acquire an emaciated appearance, 
and are oppressed by a hectic cough. 

This gas seems to operate most powerfully within 
the enclosure, a square of about thirty yards 5 but it 
possesses considerable activity for nearly two miles 
around, and the flame is observed to be strongest in 
the most stony parts— in all which spaces, when the 
ground is turned up a little, or a perforation made, an 
air escapes which is easi) / kindled by the application of 
fire, ana extends over any space of ground thus dis- 
turbed. It is hence employed to burn lime ; and, in 
the houses, is used for light and fire, the ground being 
left unfloored for the purpose. When the flame p 
wanted, one or more holes in the ground are opened, 
and a tube of cane, or even paper, is inserted in each. 
Funnels of materials so combustible are not injured by 
the flame, provided the edges be cased with clay. To 
boil water in a pot, three or four such tubes are usually 
employed. 

Jt appears that generally the application of foreign 
fire to the current of air is necessary to produce com- 
bustion. But at some distance from the temple, and 
almost equally venerated with the fire there, a natural 
cleft, about six feet long and three wide, burns in- 
cessantly; from which it would appear that in the 
larger evaporations of the fluid spontaneous combustion 
takes place. 

In other parts of the same province are found springs 
of black and white naphtha, from which a considerable 
revenue accrues to the government. The white naphtha 
it obtained in much smaller quantities than the black, 
and is of thinner consistence, and an article of much 
superior value ; it floats thinly on the surface of certain 
springs or ponds, chiefly in the peninsula of Apcheron, 
and is collected and preserved in jars. The Russians, 
Persians, and Hindoos, concur in entertaining a very 
high opinion of the cordial and medicinal virtues of this 
substance. It is taken internally as a remedy tor a 
Considerable list of disorders, and is applied externally 
fer the cure of scorbutic and rheumatic pains. It abo 
Aupkhes a very fine and durable japan, and is em- 
ployed to extract grease spots from silks and woollens. | 



The pilgrims from India are accustomed to take back 
with them some of this substance as a valuable rarity, 
the imputed virtues of which they like to attribute to 
the saeredness of the soil from which it is taken. The 
black naphtha, or bitumen, is produced in the same 
manner, but generally on large pieces of water, on 
which it floats as a scum, three or four inches thick, 
and of the consistence of tar. The springs usually boil 
uy about two or three feet, but in thick weather they 
boil higher, and the naphtha then frequently overflows 
the basin, and sometimes, kindling on the surface ot 
the earth, runs into the sea, where it spreads flaming to 
a great distance. As this substance is generally pro- 
duced without the limits of the Land of Fire, it has not 
obtained credit for such high virtues as the white 
naphtha; but, in the general uses of life, it is of far 
more importance. It is collected in great quantities, 
and forms to the people of Bakan a covering for the 
flat roofs of their houses, which is very durable, and 
impenetrable to the rain. To the poor people in the 
neighbouring districts it supplies the place of oil for 
their lamps ; and, as the country is but scantily fur- 
nished with wood, they use it, mingled with sand and 
ashes, for fuel. For such purposes it is preserved in 
jars, which are kept underground, at some distance 
from the house, in order to prevent the accidents which 
its susceptibility of ignition might occasion. 

The reader will not be uninterested if we notice, in 
conclusion, some phenomena in this country, not alto- 
gether unlike those we have been describing, and which 
are taken from the * Philosophical Transactions.' At 
Broseley, in Shropshire, and about thirty yards from 
the river Severn, a spring was found, in 1711, which 
burned with great violence, but was afterwards lost for 
several years. The person to whom the land belonged, 
and whose income had been increased by showing it to 
visiters, applied his utmost endeavours to recover it, 
but did not succeed until May, 1746, when a rumbling 
noise under ground, about thirty yards nearer to the 
river, and in a lower situation, directed him to it. 

It was soon after this, that Mr. Mason saw the well, 
and describes U as six or seven feet wide, to four or 
five feet below the surface. At this point a hole of the 
same depth had been dug to receive an earthen cylinder, 
open at Doth ends, and four or five inches in diameter, 
around which the clay had been firmly rammed in. 
This pot contained a brown water, as thick as puddle, 
continually forced up with a violent motion, greater 
than that of boiling water, the alternate rise and fall 
being about six inches, accompanied by a hollow, 
rumbling noise. There was no appearance of vapour, 
though Mr. Mason conjectured it might have been per- 
ceived but for the bright shining of the sun. A candle 
was put down at the end of a stick, and combustion 
took place when it was held about eighteen inches from 
the water; the flames darted and flashed in a very 
violent manner for about half a yard high, much in the 
way of spirits, in a lamp, but with greater agitation. 
The proprietor said that a tea-kettle had been made to 
boil over this flame in about nine minutes ; and that he 
had left H burning for forty-eight hours together with- 
out any sensible diminution. It was extinguished by 
placing a wet mop upon it ; and on its removal, a sul- 
phureous smoke succeeded, and continued for about a 
minute. The water after the burning, and at all ether 
times, was very cold to the touch. 

Concerning this well, a gentleman writes in 1761, 
that when he was on the spot, eight years previously, the 
cylinder had been taken up, or otherwise destroyed ; 
sod the well appeared only as a miry hole of clay. 
Other waters had been suffered to mingle with those of 
the burning spring ; hut though the effect was by this 
means considerably diminished, it was not wholly de- 
stroyed ; for upon the application of a piece of lighted 



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paper, a stream of clear flame shot up, which soon went 
out of itself. 

A somewhat similar account of a well at AnclifF, neat 
Wigan, in Lancashire, is given in the second volume 
of the * Philosophical Transactions, in the year 1667,' 
and in the ' Penny Cyclopaedia,' vol. i., with this re- 
markable addition, that when, for the sake of experi- 
ment, the water was diverted, ignition took place as 
before, on the application of flame to the earth, show- 
ing that the combustible principle in such cases is not 
in the water, but, as at the Atashghah, in the gas, 
generated within the earth, which escapes at those 
points. 



ENGLISH MANAGEMENT OP DRAUGHT HORSES. 

The ' Quarterly Review/ No. 100, contains a very interesting 
article on 4 The German Watering-places/ which article 
introduces to the notice of the English public an author, 
who, if we mistake him not, has been a great favourite with 
them— we mean Sir Francis Head, the well-known writer 
of ' Rough Notes, taken during some rapid journeys across 
the Pampas, and amongst the Andes.' The " rapid jour- 
neys," which he described with unusual spirit, were made 
on horseback ; and to this adventurous traveller a ride of a 
thousand miles in eight days was little more than a gallop 
to Epsom or Ascot is to ordinary men. Such an author it 
no mean authority on the subject of horses ; and we have, 
therefore, much pleasure in widely circulating an extract 
from his new book, as given in the ' Quarterly Review/ — in 
the conviction that there is much to be corrected in the 
common management of the English draught horse : — 

' With regard to the management of horses in harness, 
perhaps the most striking feature to English eyes is, that 
the Germans intrust these sensible animals with the free 
use of their eyes/ " As soon as, getting tired, or, as we are 
often apt to term it, ' lazy/ they see the postilion threaten 
them with his whip, they know perfectly well the limits of 
his patience, and that after eight, ten, or twelve threats, 
there will come a blow. As they travel along, one eye is 
always shrewdly watching ^he driver : the moment he begins 
his slow operation of lighting his* pipe, they immediately 
slacken their pace, knowing as well as Archimedes could 
have proved, that he cannot strike fire and them at the 
same time ; every movement in the carriage they remark ; 
and, to any accurate observer who meeta a German vehicle, 
it must often be perfectly evident that the poor horses know 
and feel, even better than himself, that they are drawing 
a coachman, three bulky baronesses, their man and their 
maid, and that to do this on a hot summer's day is no joke." 
Now, what is our method ? " In order to break in the 
animal to draught, we put a collar round his neck, a crup- 
per under his tail, a pad on his back, a strap round his belly, 
with traces at his sides ; and, lest he should see that, though 
these things tickle and pinch, they have not power to 
do more, the poor intelligent creature is blinded with 
blinkers, and in this fearful state of ignorance, with a groom 
or two at his head, and another at his side, he is, without 
his knowledge, fixed to the pole and splinter bar of a car- 
riage. If he kicks, even at a fly, he suddenly receives a 
heavy punishment which he does not comprehend ; some- 
thing has struck him and has hurt him severely ; but as 
fear magnifies all danger, so, for aught we know or care, he 
may fancy that the splinter-bar which has cut him is some 
hostile animal, and expect, when the polo bumps against his 
legs, to be again assailed in that direction. Admitting that 
in time he gets accustomed to these phenomena — becoming, 
what we term, steady in harness — still, to the last hour of 
his existence, he does not clearly understand what it is that 
is hampering him, or what is that rattline noise which is 
always at his heels :— the sudden sting of the whip is a pain 
With which he gets but too well acquainted, yet tne ' unde 
derivator' of the sensation he cannot explain — he neither 
knows when it is coming nor what it comes from. If 
any trifling accident, or even irregularity occurs — if any 
little harmless strap which ought to rest upon his back 
happens to fall to his side— the unfortunate animal, de- 
prived of his eyesight, the natural lanterns of the mind, is 
instantly alarmed : and though from constant heavy 
draught he may literally, without metaphor, be on his last 
legs, yet if his blinkers should happen to fall off, the sight 



of his own dozing master, of his own pretty mistress, and of 
his own fine yellow chariot in motion, would scare him so 
dreadfully, that off he would probably start, and the more 
they all pursued him the faster would he fly ! I am aware 
that many of my readers, especially those of the fairer sex, 
will feel disposed to exclaim, Why admire German horses? 
Can there be any in creation better fed or warmer clothed 
than our own ? In black and silver harness, are they not 
ornamented nearly as highly as ourselves? Is there any 
amusement in town which they do not attend ? Do we not 
take them to the Italian Opera, to balls, plays, to hear 
Paganini, &c, and don't they often go to two or three routs 
of a night? Are our horses ever seen standing before 
vulgar shops? And do they not go to church every Sun- 
day, as regularly as ourselves ? Most humbly do 1 admit 
the force of these observations ; all I persist in asserting is, 
that horses are foolishly fond of their eyesight ; like to wear 
their heads as nature has placed them ; and have bad taste 
enough to prefer dull German grooms and coachmen, to 
our sharp English ones/' 



BALBEC. 
Nbxt in renown to Palmyra, among the ruined cities 
Of the ancient world, is Balbec, situated in the same 
region* the extraordinary fate of which has been, to 
be first the seat of luxury and magnificence almo«t 
unparalleled, and then, as if the curse of Heaven had 
fallen upon it, to be reduced to little better than a de- 
solate wilderness. It is man, however, and not nature, 
that has wrought the change ; no blight has made the 
soil or poisoned the air, but a degrading despotism has 
as effectually dried up the sources of social prospe- 
rity as if some elementary convulsion had suddenly 
turned the clime of beauty cold and dark, and struck 
the teeming earth with hopeless barrenness. Indeed, 
Turkish oppression has done what no unkindness of 
nature could have effected. The splendours of Pal- 
myra rose under the breath of a free commerce in the 
midst of a sandy desert ; but nothing has been able to 
preserve that and many other great cities from cram- 
ming into heaps of ruins at the death-touch of the 
gloomy tyranny that now hangs like a pall over the 
land. 

We are indebted for the most complete account of 
Balbec, as for that of Palmyra, to Mr. Wood and his 
friends, tfrho, after visiting the two cities, gave to the 

Sublic, in successive volumes, most accurate and splendid 
elineations of everything they had seen in each, ac- 
companied with historic notices and short descriptions. 
It was on their return from Palmyra that they pro- 
ceeded to Balbec, which lies almost on a line drawn 
from the former city due west to the sea.. It is, how- 
ever, a little to the north of Palmyra. The spot in 
which it is placed is in one of the valleys of Mount 
Libanus, (the Lebanon of Scripture,) now called the 
Plain of Bocat, a fertile and well-watered opening to 
the sea, which forms i+s south-western extremity, while 
Balbec stands immeu Uely under the high ground 
which closes it in the O}. *osite direction. Its breadth, 
from Mount Libanus to Mount Anti-LibanuS, varies 
from four to two leagues. V 

Balbec is situated, as nearly as possible, half way 
between Damascus to the south-east and the port of 
Tripoli, in Syria, to the north-west. When Wood was them 
in 1751, the place contained about 5000 inhabitants, 
among whom were a few Jews and Christians; but 
later accounts describe its population as greatly re- 
duced. The collection of miserable huts which form 
the modern town, probably do not now harbour more 
than a thousand half-savage Arabs. 

Ancient writers, in general, are as silent respecting 

Balbec as respecting Palmyra. But it is no doubt the 

same city which Macrobius, in his Saturnalia, mentions 

under the name of Heliopolis of Coelesyria, and to 

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[Ruins of the City of Balbec.] 



which he tells us the worship of the sun was brought, 
in very remote times, from the other city of the same 
name in Egypt. Heliopolis in Greek means the City 
of the Sun ; and the signification of the Syriac term 
Balbec is the Vale of Bal, the oriental name for the 
same luminary when worshipped as a god. It is pro- 
bable that Balbec was the ancient, as it is the modern, 
name of the place, although, from not having been 
mentioned, like Tadmor, the old name of Palmyra, in 
the Hebrew Scriptures, it has come down to us only in 
the form of the Greek translation, Heliopolis. 

The universal tradition of the country, Wood informs 
us, is that Balbec, as well as Palmyra, was built by 
Solomon. Many stories, it seems, are told by the inha- 
bitants of the manner in which the celebrated Jewish 
king spent his time in this retreat. Some critics have 
supposed that some building at Balbec may possibly be 
that spoken of in his writings as 4 ihe Tower of Le- 
banon that looketh toward Dan ascus.*' One of the 
stories current on the spot is thv the city was built by 
him as a residence for the Qu-en of Sheba. It is be- 
lieved, of course, that in thi c as in all other his similar 
undertakings, the wise m«".oarch availed himself of the 
agency of genii or spirits. 

The ruins of the ancient magnificence of Balbec do 
not present a crowd of fallen edifices, spread over a 
large extent of space, like thosi of Palmyra: they 
consist only of three distinct b lildings, which stand 
not far from each other, in a plain at a short distance 
from the inhabited part of the town. The cut which 
we have given, copied from a much larger engraving 
in Mr. Wood's volume, presents a view of these build- 
ings, with some others in the modern town, as seen 
from the south. To the left of the picture, or on the 
west, is the immense structure commonly called the 
Temple of the Sun, with its courts. More in the fore- 
ground is another smaller, but more entire temple ; and 



at a considerable distance west from that, and still far- 
ther to the south, is a, third temple, of a circular form, 
distinguishable by a modern spire, which has been 
erected over it, to convert it into a Greek church. A 
Doric column, a Turkish mosque, and some other 
modern erections, are seen interspersed. Surrounding 
the whole is the city wall, ten or twelve feet high, and 
defended at intervals by square towers. 

The entry to the great Temple of the Sun is from 
the east, through a noble portico of twelve circular 
columns ; and the first apartment in which the visiter 
finds himself is a magnificent hexagonal (six-sided) 
hall, 180 feet in diameter, exhibiting on all sides the 
remains of an architectural beauty and magnificence of 
the richest character, in the columns and other orna- 
ments of a circle of chambers which run around it. 
Beyond this is a still larger court of nearly a square 
form, being 374 feet in one direction by 368 in another, 
and at the farther extremity of that is the far-stretching 
pillared structure forming the, proper temple. As may 
be observed from the view, nine of the lofty columns 
which had composed this part of the edifice are still to 
be seen standing together. There had been originally 
fifty-six in all, namely, ten at each end, and eighteen 
others along each of the sides. The entire length of 
the space which they include is 285 feet, and its breadth 
157. The height, including the plinth, is 87 feet. 
Nothing grander can be conceived than the aspect 
presented by this immense and richly ornamented 
temple, when seen in its full extent. No part of the 
structure is perhaps more wonderful than the terrace 
or soubassement by which the whole is surrounded, 
the stones composing which are in general 30 feet in 
length by 10 in breadth, and 13 in height. At the west 
end are three of the enormous length of 63 or 64 feet 
each. A freestone quarry still remains open, not far 
from the city wall, from which these colossal blocks 



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appear to have been lewn, and where many of similar 
dimensions are to be seen cut from the rock, and left 
ready to be removed. From this and other circum- 
stances, Mr. Wood concludes that the soubassement of 
the temple was never finished. One of the stones lying 
in the quarry, which is not quite detached* is even larger 
than any of those in the temple, measuring 70 feet in 
length by 14 in breadth, and 14} in height. Its weight 
would be about 1 135 tons. 

The other temple, to the south of this, is, as we have 
mentioned, of smaller dimensions, but is still a large 
building, being 222 feet in length by 1144 in breadth. 
Its columns have been originally 34 in all, namely, 8 
in front, and 13 along each of the sides. Their height, 
including the plinth, is 76$ feet ; but the ground on 
which this temple stands is lower than the site of the 
other. The ornaments here are all likewise of the 
richest description. The Turks have built two great 
square towers on the ruins of the portico of this temple , 



but in other respects it is considerably less dilapidated 
than the former. In Wood's time, nearly all the pillars 
composing the peristyle, together with their entablature, 
were entire. 

Our second woodcut is a view of the circular 
temple, a small building of exquisite beauty. Hie 
building itself, exclusive of the pillars by which it 
is surrounded, is only 32 feet in diameter; and the 
height is divided into two parts, in the lower of which 
the architecture is Ionic, and in the higher, Corinthian. 
The lower has been at one time converted into a Greek 
church. The grace and lightness of the exterior of this 
edifice make it a perfect gem of art. 

The buildings of Balbec are for the most part of the 
Corinthian order. John of Antioch states that the 
great temple was built by the Roman emperor, Anto- 
ninus Pius, in the second century ; and other circum- 
stances would also lead to the conclusion that it is of 
this age. 



[Circular Temple of Bailee.] 



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PROFESSIONS AND TRADES OF THE 
METROPOLIS. ; 

lit the inquiries upon which the Population Returns 
for 1831 were founded, it was attempted to obtain an 
aoeount of the multifarious divisions of the British 
people, according to their occupations. This portion 
of the Returns has not yet been published. Of late 
years some very full Directories have appeared ; amongst 
others, * Pigott's Commercial Directory ' for the whole 
country, and * Robson's Commercial Directory and Street 
Guide' for the metropolis. It appeared to us that 
some approach to an accurate estimate of the propor- 
tions between one employment and another might be 
formed by analysing the lists in the latter work for 
1834, of the professional persons, merchants, manufac- 
turers, and shopkeepers of this great city ; and from 
this source we have* obtained, by actual and careful 
counting, the results exhibited in the following table. 
As the lists were not at all framed for the purpose to 
which we have applied them, the results exhibited in this 
table have not been obtained without much expense of 
time and labour. It should be mentioned that the 
list of tradesmen in the Directory does not profess to 
give all the establishments ; small shops in very obscure 
streets are no doubt often omttted. It was sometimes 
desirable to bring under one head, details which, in the 
lists, are widely separated. Thus ' Porkmen ' have been 
joined to 'Butchers ' and * Meat Salesmen ;' and ' Irish, 
Scotch, and Manchester warehouses' to ' Linen-drapers. 1 
The figures prefixed to the several items of the table 
refer to some observations, which it seemed desirable 
to subjoin. 

Tabus of Profession! and Trades. 
Accountants 107 

1. Agents <98 

2. Architects and Surveyors ..... 205 

3. Artists 212 

4. Auctioneers and Appraisers 460 

Bakers 1887 

Barristers 856 

Bookbinders 246 

5. Booksellers 508 

Boot and Shoe-makers • 1490 

Brewers (86 Retail, 22 Porter) .... 220 

6. Brokers 1399 

7. Builders, Bricklayers, &c 1008 

Butchers and Meat Salesmen .... 1479 

Cabinet Makers 552 

Carpenters 1109 

Carvers and Gilders ....... 281 

8. Cheesemongers 940 

Chemists and Druggists 615 

China, Glass, and Staffordshire Dealers . 320 

9. Coach Makers 264 

Coal Merchants (602), Dealers (140), and 

Factors (11) 753 

Coopers 232 

Curiosity (42) and Picture (49) Dealers . 91 

Cutlers (163) and Hardwaremen (60) . . 223 

Dairymen 213 

Dentists 120 

Distillers 57 

Dyers 297 

10. Engineers Ill 

11. Engravers 431 

Factors 359 

Fishmongers (235) and Factors (30) . . 265 

Florists (32), and Nursery and Seedsmen . 91 
Founders (Brass 138, Iron 55, Type 12, 

Stereotype 6) 211 

Goldsmiths 1*7 

12. Grocers 1933 



Gun and Pistol Makers . • 
Haberdashers .... 
Hair-dressers and Perfumers 

Hatters 

Hosiecs ...... 

Ironmongers (153 Wholesale) 
13. Jewellers 



14. Licensed Victuallers 

15. Linen Drapers 

Livery Stable Keepers and Horse Dealer* . 
Mathematical, Optical (68), and Philo- 
sophical Instrument Makers • 

16. Merchants 

Milliners and Dress Makers 

Music Sellers, (Publishers 39) . . . . 
Musical Instrument (109 Piane-forte, 25 

Organ) Makers 

News-venders 

17. Oil-men 

Paper-Stainers and Hangers .... 
Pastry Cooks aud Confectioners . . . 
Patentees (exclusive of Medicines) . . • 

Pawnbrokers 

Physicians 

18. Plumbers, Painters, and Glasiers . . . 
Poulterers • 

19. Printers 

Saddlers 



20. Sculptors 

Ship (26), and Barge and Boat Builders . 

21. Silk Mercers, &c . 

Silversmiths 

Smiths 

22. Solicitors and Attorneys 

Stay and Corset Makers . . • f . • 
Straw and Chip Hat Makers . . . . 

23. Stationers 

Surgeons 

Tailors 

Tobacconists ......... 

Undertakers 

24. Watch and Clock Makers 

Wax and Tallow Chandlers ..... 
Woollen Drapers (21 9), Manufacturers (14), 

and Warehousemen (66) ...» 



358 

391 
417 
249 
478 
347 
3638 
695 
309 

143 

3648 

538 

89 

195 
347 

1045 
146 
282 
95 
321 
205 

1044 
163 
481 
223 
40 
60 
280 
176 
238 

1931 
194 
283 
582 

1306 

1965 
662 
405 
670 
120 

299 



1. 191 are General and Commercial, 72 Estate and 
House, 30 East India, and 12 Foreign Agents. 

2. 76 are Surveyors only. * 

3. 54 of this number are of considerable distinction, 
viz., 23 as Historical and Character Painters ; 20 Por- 
trait ; 21 Landscape; 13 Miniature; 4 as Painters of 
Animals ; and 3 in Enamel. 

4. 87 are Appraisers only ; 14 are also Upholsterers, 
and 37 Surveyors. 

5. This enumeration does not include 324 retail 
Booksellers, who are Stationers also. 97 are Publishers, 
of whom 15 supply the town and country trade gene- 
rally ; 6 confine themselves chiefly to their own publica- 
tions, and the remainder are retail Booksellers and 
Publishers. 56 Booksellers sell chiefly modern pub- 
lications, and 72 deal in second-hand books : 27 have 
Circulating Libraries, and 12 Reading Rooms. The 
Foreign Booksellers are 21 ; Religious, 16; Law, 15 ; 
Juvenile, 7 ; Medical, 6 ; Scientific and Agricultural, 
3 ; Theatrical, 3 ; Military, 2. 

6. 322 are Stock; 37, Bill; 97, Insurance; 172, 
Ship and Insurance ; and 422, Furniture, Brokers. 

7. 510 are Builders, of whom 150 are also Carpenters, 
and 76 Bricklayers. There are 376 other Bricklayers, 
of whom 152 are also Plasterers, and 5 Slaters. 5S 
who are exclusively Plasterers, and 27 Slaters, are also 
comprehended. 



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P. 23 are Wholesale There are, beside*, 898 Grocers 
who are also Cheesemongers. 

9. There are besides 408 manufacturers of parts of 
coaches. 

10. Of this number 19 are Civil Engineers: 9 are 
also Machinists, and 14 Mill-wrights. 

11. 6 are Historical; 15, Wood; and 53, Seal En- 
gravers. 156 are also Printers, and 24 Enamellers. 

12. 59 are Wholesale ; 398 are also Cheesemongers, 
and 1323 Tea-dealers: but there are besides 84 whole- 
sale Tea-dealers, 83 dealers in Tea and Coffee only, 
and 22 dealers in Coffee only, who are not compre- 
hended in the amount. 

13. Most of the Goldsmiths, 39 Silversmiths, and 12 
Watchmakers, are also Jewellers. 8 wholesale, and 84 
working, Jewellers are included in the enumeration. 

14. It is curious to remark the uniformity of London 
*igns, There are, for instance, King's Arms, 90 ; King's 
Heads, 73 ; Red Lions, 74 ; Crowns, 70 ; Grapes, 62 ; 
Coach and Horses, 60 ; Ships, 49 ; White Horses, 47 ; 
Ac. 

15. 3 are Manufacturers; 16, Wholesale Dealers; 
79, Manchester, Scotch, or Irish Warehouses ; 78 are 
also Haberdashers. 

16. 1200 are General Merchants; 4, Oporto; 86, 
Russia ; 7, Turkey ; 3, East India ; 35, West India ; 
602, Coal; 459, Wine; 404, Wine and Spirits; 230, 
Timber. 

17. 515 are also Colourmen ; 86, Grocers ; 62, 
Italian Warehousemen ; and 35, Tallow Chandlers. 

18. 157 are Painters and Glaziers only. The amount 
is exclusive of 97 Painters and Decorators, 51 Painters 
and Grainers, 10 Herald, and 6 Sign Painters. 

19. 50 are Copper-plate ; 42, Lithographic ; 3, Music ; 
and 3, Silk Printers. 33 are Stationers also. 

20. About IS of the number are much distinguished. 
There are also 5 makers of figures in Plaster of Paris, 
and 2 in Wax. 

21. 89 are Manufacturers : 60 are also Linendrapers, 
and 31, Haberdashers. 

22. There are besides 82 Proctors, 38 Notaries 
Public, and 110 Conveyancers. 

23. 324 are also Booksellers, and 29 Bookbinders. 
14 are Law, and 35 Fancy Stationers. 

24. 43 are Chronometer-makers, and 25 are exclu- 
sively Clock-makers. There are besides 159 who manu- 
facture the different parts of watches, and are not 
included. 



CASPAR HAUSER. 

Many writers on the intellectual nature of man have 
attempted to supply a chapter for which human ex- 
perience afforded no materials, by conjecturing what 
would be the condition of a being secluded, from 
infancy to youth, from all knowledge of the external 
world, and from all intercourse with his species, and, 
therefore, destitute of the common experience, the appe- 
tites, and the acquirements, which result from the cir- 
cumstances in which a human being is usually placed. 
The probable character of his feelings am* perceptions, 
on viewing the glories of nature whick i v : iad never 
witnessed, and his sensations amidst the business and 
forms of life of which he had no previous notion, afforded 
matter for very interesting speculation. The state of 
man, excluded from social intercourse and education, 
is perhaps partially exhibited in such histories as those 
of Peter the Wild Boy; but the subject, as a whole, 
is now redeemed from speculation by the history of 
Caspar Hauser. This history is not only of surpassing 
interest in itself, but, in the point of view we have 
stated, is of such importance, that the information it 
affords must always hereafter occupy that place in the 
history of man which conjecture has hitherto supplied. 



An exceeding curious account of this remarkable being 
has been translated from the German of Anselm von 
Feuerbach, and to this we are indebted for the infor- 
mation which we purpose to lay before our readers; 
referring those who desire further information to the 
work itself for many interesting details which our limits 
will not include. 

On Whit Monday, the 26th May, 1828, a citizen of 
Nuremberg, In Bavaria, was proceeding from his house 
to take a walk, when, happening to look around him, 
he perceived at a little distance a young man in the 
dress of a peasant, who was standing in a very singular 
posture, and, like an intoxicated person, was endep 
vouring to move forward, without being able either to 
stand upright or to govern the movement of his legs. 
On the approach of the citizen the stranger held out to 
him a letter directed to a military officer living in Nu- 
remberg. As the house of this person lay in the di- 
rection of the citizen's walk, he took the youth thither 
with him. When the servant opened the door, the 
stranger advanced with the letter in his hand, with the 
following words : — " Ae sechterre mocht ih wahn, wie 
mei Volt a wahn is." The various questions of the 
servant, — as, what Jie wanted ? who he was ? whence he ' 
came ? — he appeared not to understand, and answered 
only by a repetition of the same words. He seemed so 
much fatigued that he could scarcely be said to walk, but 
only to stagger ; and he pointed to his feet with tears, 
and a countenance expressive of much pain. As he 
appeared to be also suffering from hunger and thirst, a 
small piece of meat was handed to him; but scarcely 
had the first morsel touched his lips when he shuddered, 
the muscles of his face were seized with convulsive 
spasms, and he spat it out with great abhorrence. He 
manifested the same aversion after he had tasted a few 
drops of a glass of beer which was brought to him. 
But he swallowed with greediness and satisfaction a bit 
of bread and a glass of pure water. In the meantime 
all attempts to gain any information concerning his 
person or his arrival were entirely fruitless. He seemed 
to hear without understanding, to see without per- 
ceiving, and to move his feet without knowing how to 
use them for the purpose of walking. His language 
consisted mostly of tears, moans, and unintelligible 
sounds, mingled with the words which he frequently 
repeated, — u Reuta wahn, wie mei Volta wahn is V 
He was hence soon regarded as a kind of savage ; and; 
in expectation of the captain's return, was conducted to 
the stable, where he immediately stretched himself on 
the straw, and fell into a profound sleep. When the cap- 
tain came home, several hours after, the boy was with 
immense difficulty awakened. He then regarded the 
bright colours of the officer's uniform with childish 
satisfaction, and began to repeat his " Reuta," Ac. 
to which, and his few other articulate expressions, he 
attached, as was afterwards discovered, no particular 
meaning. They were only sounds which had been 
taught him like a parrot, and which he uttered as the 
common expression of all his ideas, sensations, and 
desires. 

The letter addressed to the captain afforded no dis- 
tinct information concerning this singular being. It 
stated that the writer was a poor day-labourer with a 
family of ten children. The bearer had been left in his 
house the 7th October, 181*2, and he had never since 
been suffered to leave it. A Christian education had 
been given to him, and he had been taught to read and 
write ; and as he wished to become a trooper, and the 
writer found it difficult to maintain him longer, he had 
brought him to. Nuremberg and consigned him to the 
captain's protection. This letter, manifestly designed 
to mislead, was written in German, and concluded with 

* This jargon seemi to imply, w I will be a rder (a trooper) at 
my father waa. n ^ 



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this heartless expression, — " If you do not keep him, 
you may get rid of him, or let him be scrambled for." 
Jn a Latin postscript, evidently by the same hand, 
though the writer professes to be a poor girl, it is stated 
that the lad was born April SO, 1812 ; that he had been 
baptized; that the application was for his education 
until he became seventeen years old, and that he should 
then be sent to the 6th Chevaux-leger regiment, to 
which his father, then dead, had belonged. 

Under all the circumstances, the captain thought it 
best to consign the stranger, and to leave the solution 
of the riddle, to the city police. On his arrival at the 
guard-house, the usual official questions were put to 
him, to which and all other inquiries he gave no other 
reply than with his usual unmeaning " Reuta," &c. 
He exhibited neither fear, astonishment, nor confusion ; 
but rather showed an almost brutish dulness, which 
either leaves external objects entirely unnoticed, or 
stares at them without thought. But he was continu- 
ally pointing, with tears and whimpering, to his feet, 
which, with his awkward and childish demeanour, soon 
excited the compassion of all who were present ; for, 
having the appearance of a young man, his whole con- 
duct was that of a child scarcely two or three years old. 
The police were divided in opinion whether to consider 
him as an idiot or as a kind of savage ; an 1 one or two 
expressed a doubt whether under this appearance some 
cunning deceiver might not be concealed. Some one 
thought of trying whether he could write, and placed 
materials before him, with an intimation that he should 
do so. This appeared to give him pleasure ; he took 
the pen, by no means awkwardly, between his fingers, 
and wrote in legible characters the name " Kasper 
Hauser." This circumstance strengthened the im- 
pression of his being an impostor, and he was, for the 
present, consigned to a tower used for the confinement 
of rogues and vagabonds, in the short walk to which he 
sank down, groaning at almost every step. 

The structure of Caspar Hauser's body, which was 
stout and broad-shouldered, showed perfect symmetry, 
without any visible defect. His face was, on his first 
appearance at Nuremberg, very vulgar ; when in a state 
of tranquillity, it was almost without expression ; and 
its lower features being somewhat prominent, gave 
him a brutish appearance. But the formation of his 
face altered in a few months almost entirely ; his counte- 
nance gained expression and animation, the lower part 
of his face became gradually less prominent, and his 
earlier physiognomy could scarcely be longer recognised. 
His feet, which have no marks of having been ever be- 
fore confined by a shoe, were beautifully formed, and 
the soles were as soft as the palms of his hands. His 
gait was, properly speaking, uot a walk, but rather a 
waddling, tottering, groping of the way — a painful me- 
dium between the motion of falling, and the endeavour 
to stand upright. The smallest impediment in his way 
caused him often, in his chamber, to fall flat on the 
floor ; and for a long time after his arrival he could 
not go up or down stairs without assistance. He 
scarcely knew at all how to use his hands and fingers. 
Where others applied but a few fingers, he used his 
whole hand in the most awkward manner imaginable. 

In a very short time Caspar Hauser ceased to be re- 
garded either as an idiot or an impostor; and the 
mildness, good-nature, and obedience which he exhi- 
bited, precluded the idea that he had grown up among 
the beasts of the forests. Yet he was so utterly desti- 
tute of words and conceptions, so unacquainted with the 
common objects and daily occurrences of nature ; and he 
showed such an indifference and abhorrence to all the 
usual customs, conveniences, and necessaries of life; 
aid evinced such extraordinary peculiarities in his 
mental, moral, and physical existence, that it only re- 
mained to conjecture that he had been kept in a state 



of utter seclusion and imprisonment during the former 
portion of his existence ; and now appeared a monstrous 
being, only beginning to live in the middle of his life, 
and who must always remain a man without childhood 
or boyhood. 

Caspar then became an object of great curiosity and 
interest, and was visited by hundreds of persons. During 
the night he lay upon his straw bed ; and in the day 
he sat upon the floor with his legs stretched out before 
him. He could be persuaded to take no other food 
than bread and water. Even the smell of most of the 
common articles of food -was sufficient to make him 
shudder, or still more disagreeably to affect him ; and 
the least drop of wine or coffee, mixed clandestinely 
with his water, occasioned him cold sweats, or caused 
him to be seized with vomiting or violent head-ache. 
When he saw for the first time a lighted candle placed 
before him, he was delighted with the shining flame, 
and unsuspectingly put his fingers into it ; but he 
quickly drew them back, crying out and weeping. 
Feigned cuts and thrusts were made at him with a 
naked sabre, in order to try what might be their effect 
upon him ; but he remained immoveable without even 
winking, or without appearing in the least to suspect 
that any harm could thus be done to him. When a 
looking-glass was once held before him, he caught at 
his own reflected image, and then looked behind to find 
the person whom he supposed to be concealed there. 
Like a little child, he endeavoured to lay hold of every 
glittering object that he saw ; and he cried when he 
could not reach it or was forbidden to touch it. He 
was in possession of only two words for the purpose of 
designating living creatures. Whatever appeared to 
him in a human form he called, without any distinction 
of sex or age, " bua ;" and to every animal that he 
met with, whether quadruped or biped, dog, cat, 
goose or fowl, he gave the name of " ross," (horse). 
This word, indeed, appeared to fill by far the greatest 
space in his vocabulary, which contained scarcely half 
a dozen words. He often repeated the word with tears, 
and in a plaintive, beseeching tone of voice ; and when- 
ever any trifle, a riband, a coin, or a little picture, was 
given to him, he cried " Ross ! ross !" and expressed by 
his looks and motions a desire to hang all these pretty 
things upon a horse. This suggested to a police soldier 
the idea of giving him a wooden horse for a plaything. 
The possession of this toy seemed to effect a great 
alteration in Caspar. He lost his insensibility, his in 
difference, and his dejection, and conducted himself as 
if he had found an old and long-desfred friend. From 
that time he had ample employment in decorating, 
caressing, feeding, and dragging his horse to and fro 
by his side, without changing his usual position on the 
floor. He never ate his bread without first holding 
every morsel of it to the mouth of some one of his 
horses, — for more were given him, — nor did he ever drink 
water without first dipping their mouths in it, which 
he afterwards carefully wiped off. When the keeper 
endeavoured to make him understand that his wooden 
horses could not eat, he thought he had sufficiently 
refuted him by pointing to the crumbs that stuck in their 
mouths. From this and many other instances it 
manifestly appeared that ideas of things animate or 
inanimate, organic or unorganized, or of what is pro- 
duced by nature or formed by art, were all strangely 
mingled together in the mind of this poor victim of an 
extraordinary cruelty. 

To be continued la the next Number. 



In norae of the copies of No. 117 (Sopplement), tbe psragraph in p. SS, 
' orms us," was troMpveeo*. It should be inserted after 



beginning " Homboldt informs 

the first two lines of the second column of p, 84. 



•-• The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 

59, Lincoln's-Inn Fields. 

LONDON :— CHARLES KNIQHT, 28, LUDGATE STREET. 

Printed bj William Cfcowxs, Doke.Street, Lambeth, 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



TFebrdartS 18S4. 



THE CHLAMYPHORUS TRUNCATUS. 



Tai Chlamyphorus Truncatus, or Pechichiago, is a 
little animal belonging to the order edentata — an order 
which includes mammalia destitute of incisor teeth, and 
sometimes of teeth altogether. The first detailed ac- 
tount we have of the chlamyphorus is given by Dr. 
Harlan, professor of comparative anatomy to the 
Philadelphia Museum ; who, however, had only the 
opportunity of examining an imperfect specimen. 

The animal is a native of Chili, where, like a mole, 
it burrows in the rich soil of the valleys, living for the 
most part underground, in quiet seclusion. Concealed 
in its subterranean retreats, it is regarded by the natives 
as a curiosity ; and, indeed, independent of its being hid- 
den from observation, as it seldom visits the surface, at 
least during the light of day, it appears to be extremely 
rare. Its food, so far as we are assured by its dentition 
and the imperfect accounts received respecting its habits, 
is insectivorous, and doubtless consists of such as like 
itself inhabiting the soil beneath the surface, become 
the objects of its pursuit without calling it from iU 
obscurity. Night is most probably the season of. its 
activity, and of its unfrequent visits to the " upper 
world." 

Few animals with which we are acquainted are better 
qualified for a subterranean mode of life, or better 
furnished with the means of " progressing" through 
the soil, or forming galleries and chambers. The top 
of the head, and the whole of the upper surface of 
the body, are covered with a thin shell of a consistence 
between horn and leather, divided, by intersecting fur* 

Vol. III. 



rows, into a series of bands or strips, each strip being 
itself made up of fifteen or twenty plates of a square 
fprm, except on the head, which is covered with a single 
plate composed of a mosaic-work of rounded and irre- 
gular portions. This horny covering or shield is not 
fixed by the whole of its inferior surface lo the integu- 
ments beneath, as is the case with the armadillo, but 
merely rests on the back, free throughout, " excepting 
along the spine of the back and top of the head; being 
attached to the back, immediately above the spine, by 
a loose cuticular production, mid by two remarkable 
bony processes on the top of the os frontis (bone of 
forehead), by means of two large plates which are 
nearly incorporated with the bone beneath; but for 
this attachment, and the tail being firmly curved be- 
neath the belly, the covering would be very easily 
detached." The extremity of the tail is formed like a 
paddle. " The whole surface of the body is covered 
with fine silk4ike hair, (of a delicate straw colour,) 
longer and finer than that of the mole, but not so 
thick. The anterior of the chest is large, full, and 
strong; the anterior extremities short, clumsy, and 
powerful." The hand, which is amazingly thick and 
compact, is furnished with five powerful but compressed 
nails, which, arranged together in their natural situa- 
tion, constitute one of .the most efficient scrapers or 
shovels which can be possibly imagined ; and expressly 
adapted for progression under ground, but in an equal 
ratio ill-fitted for celerity on the surface. The hind! 
legs are comparatively weak, the feet being long aud 

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man eyinced greater powers of hearing than himself, 
he observed, that his hearing had formerly been more 
acute ; but that, since he began to eat meat, he had 
been unable to distinguish sounds with so much nicety 
as the blind man. 

Nothing made his ne»v mode of life more unpleasant 
to him than the sense of smelling. What to us is 
entirely scentless was not so to him. The most de- 
licate and delightful odours of flowers were felt 
by him as insupportable stenches, which painfully 
affected his nerves. Excepting the smell of bread, and 
of certain condiments used in that to which he had 
been accustomed in his prison, all scents were more or 
less disagreeable to him. When he was once asked 
which of all other smells was most agreeable to him ? 
he answered, "None at all." His walks and rides 
were thus rendered very unpleasant by leading him near 
to flower-gardens, tobacco- fields, and nut-trees. He 
could distinguish apple, pear, and plum trees from 
each other at a considerable distance by the smell of 
their leaves. The different colouring materials used in 
the painting of walls and furniture, and in the dyeing 
of cloths, — the pigments with which he coloured his 
pictures, — the ink or pencil with which he wrote, — all 
things about him, — produced effects upon his sense of 
smell which were disagreeable or painful to him. The 
opening of a bottle of Champagne was snre to drive 
him from the table, or to make him sick. What we 
call unpleasant smells were perceived by him with 
much less aversion than many of our perfumes. The 
smell of fresh meat was to him the most horrible of all 
smells. 

As to his sight, there existed, in respect to him, no 
twilight, no night, no darkness. This was first noticed 
by remarking that, at night, he stepped every where 
with the greatest confidence, and that, in dark places, he 
always refused a light when it was offered him. In 
twilight he even saw much better than in broad day- 
light. Thus, after sunset, he once read the number of a 
house at the distance of a hundred and eighty paces, 
which, in daylight, he would not have been able to dis- 
tinguish so far off. Towards the close of twilight, he 
once pointed out to his instructor a gnat on a very dis- 
tant spider's web. It has been proved, by experiments 
carefully made, that, in a perfectly dark night, he 
could distinguish different dark colours, such as blue 
and green, from each other. M. von Feuerbach relates 
that, recollecting the well-known account given by 
Cheselden of a young man who had become blind 
but a few days after his birth, and was restored to 
sight by a successful operation, he felt desirous of 
instituting a comparison between his perceptions and 
those of Caspar. In one of his visits to the tower he 
accordingly directed him to look out of the window, 
which afforded the prospect of a beautiful landscape in 
all the glory of summer. He obeyed; but he im- 
mediately drew back with visible horror, exclaiming, 
" Ugly ! ugly !" and then pointing to the white wall of 
his chamber, he said, " There are not ugly." To the 
question, Why it was ugly? no other reply was made 
but " Ugly ! ugly !" M. von Feuerbach, however, pre- 
served this incident in his memory ; and, on a future 
occasion, when Caspar's mind had much advanced in 
cultivation, he took occasion to recall the circumstance 
to his recollection. He replied, " Indeed, what I then 
saw was very ugly ; for when I looked at the window, 
it always appeared to me as if a window-shutter Had 
been placed close before my eyes, upon which a wall- 
painter had spattered the contents of his different 
brushes, filled with white, blue, green, yellow, and red 
paint, all mingled together. Single things, as I now 
see things, I could not at that time recognize and dis- 
tinguish from each other. This was shocking to look 
at ; and, besides, it made me feel anxious and uneasy, 



because it appeared to me as if my window had been 
closed up with this party-coloured shutter, in order to 
prevent me from looking out into the open air* That 
what I then saw were fields, hills, and houses; that 
many things which at that time appeared to me much 
larger were, in fact, much smaller, while many other 
things that appeared smaller were, in reality, larger 
than other things, — are facts of which I was afterwards 
convinced by the experience gained during my walks. 
At length I no longer saw anything of the shutter." 
To other questions, he replied, that in the beginning 
he could not distinguish between what was really round 
or triangular, and what was only painted as round or 
triangular. The men and horses represented on sheets 
of pictures appeared to him precisely as the men and 
horses that were carved on wood ; — but he said that, in 
(he packing and unpacking of his things, he had soon 
felt a difference; and that afterwards it had seldom 
happened to him to mistake the one for the other. 

Of his astonishing memory, which was as quick as 
it was tenacious, Caspar gave the moil striking proofs; 
but its strength declined afterwards precisely in the 
proportion that it was enriched, and as the labour of 
his understanding was increased. 

" His obedience to all those persons who had acquired 
paternal authority over him was unconditional and 
boundless. That the burgomaster or professor had 
said so, was to him a reason for doing or omitting to 
do anything, which was final, and totally exclusive of 
all further questions and considerations. Yet, in nil 
opinion, this submission to the authority of others 
referred only to what he was to do or not to do, and it 
had no connexion whatever with his knowing, believ- 
ing, and judging. Before he could acknowledge any- 
thing to be certain and true, it was necessary that he 
should be convinced ; and, indeed, that he should be 
convinced, either by the intuition of his senses, or by 
some reasoning so adapted to his powers of comprehen- 
sion, and to the scanty acquirements of his almost vacant 
mind, as to appear to him to be striking. Whenever 
it was impossible to reach his understanding by any of 
these ways, he did not, indeed, contradict the assertion 
made, but he would leave the matter undecided, until, 
ai he use4 to sat, he had learned more. When he was 
told* among other things, of the impending winter, 
and that the roofs of the houses and the streets of the 
city would then be ail white*— as white as the walls of 
his chamber, — he said that this would be very pretty, 
lfut plainly insinuated that he should not believe it 
until he had seen it. The next winter, when the first 
snow fell, he expressed great joy that the streets, the 
roofs, and the trees were now so well painted; and he 
went quickly down into the yard to fetch some of the 
white paint ; but he soon ran to his preceptor with all 
his fingers stretched out, crying and bawling out * that 
the white paint had bit his hand.' " 

[To f* conellJed in No. 110.] 



A WISH. 
Mini be & cot beside the hill, 

A bee-hire's hum shall soothe my est j 
A willowy brook that turns a mill, 

With many a fall thatt linger near. 

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, 
Shall twitter from her clay-built neet ; 

Oft shall the pilgrim lilt the latch, 
And share my meal, a welcome guest. 

Around my ivyM porch shall spring 

Kach fragrant flower that drinks the dew ; 

And Lucy at her wheel shall sing, . 
In russet gown and apron blue. 

The village church among the trees, 

Where first our marriage vows were given, 

With merry peels shall swetl the breet* 
And point With taper spire to heaven. . 

Roans* 

H? 



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CATHEDRAL OF AMIENS. 



[Fbbr0MY.£ 



[Wert Front of the 
Tbb Cathedral of Amieni has always been accounted 
one of the chief glories of Gothic architecture. It was 
erected at the time when, in France at least, whaterer 
might be the case in England, that style had reached 
its highest perfection, namely, the early part of the 
thirteenth century. To this period are to be referred 
all the other greatest works of the same kind in that 
kingdom ; amon j others, tht eatbtdrals of Pari*, 41 



CatheAml of Amient.] 

Rouen, of Rheims, and of Lyons, the Sainte Chapelle 
at Paris, the church of St. Nicaise at Rheims, and that 
of Notre Dame at Nantes. All these famous structures 
were completed, we believe, a considerable time before 
the close of the thirteenth century, and they were most 
of them begun a few years before or after its com- 
mencement. 
From tht extraordinary richness and beauty <||*> 



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68 



played in these buildings, nothing of a character similar 
to which, it is contended, was seen in England till 
nearly a hundred years later, — a very powerful argu- 
ment has been deduced in refutation of the notion of 
some writers, that what is called Gothic architecture is 
of English origin. So far, it is said, is this from being 
the case that, if the comparative state of the art in the 
two countries at the same date is to be taken as evidence 
of which borrowed it from the other, it is impossible 
not to admit that Prance must have been the fore- 
runner and teacher of England. It would appear that 
the only way in which this argument can be met, is by 
questioning the fact upon which it is founded ; and 
accordingly it has been asserted, that Salisbury and 
other English cathedrals, buHt in the thirteenth century, 
exhibit as advanced a style as those of the same age in 
France. After all, neither of the theories which make 
. the one of these two countries to have borrowed its 
Gothic architecture from the other is altogether free 
from difficulties ; and probably the truer supposition is, 
that both derived the art from some third quarter, or, it 
is even possible, from two perfectly distinct quarters, and 
that it was then carried forward independently in each. 
One of the most able expositions and defences of the 
opinion, that the English Gothic is of French origin, 
is contained in a work entitled, * An Historical Survey 
of the Ecclesiastical Antiquities of France, by the Rev. 
G. D. Whittington,' published in 1809, after the death 
of the author, under the care of the Earl of Aberdeen. 
The views maintained in this work are supported by a 
reference, among other edifices, to the cathedral of 
Amiens, and by an elaborate comparison of it with thai 
of Salisbury, which was begun in the same year, and 
also completed nearly within the same space. 

The present is the third cathedral which is recorded 
to have been erected at Amiens, the two former having 
been successively destroyed by fire (the common 
catastrophe of large buildings in those days) in 1019 
and 1218. The zeal of Bishop Evrard, however, who 
presided over the see when the latter of these two 
calamities occurred, did not permit him to lose much 
time in making preparation for the erection of a new 
and more splendid church ; and, after money had been 
collected by every available method for the pious work, 
the building was begun in 1220. It was zealously 
carried on by Evrard and his successors, till, having 
been finished in all its material parts, it was con- 
secrated in 1269, in the time of Bishop Bert rand d 'Abbe- 
ville, the fifth from its founder. The ornamental part 
of the work, however, it would appear, continued to be 
carried on for nearly twenty years after this date ; and 
the two great towers over the west front are stated not 
to have been erected till the following century. There 
are some verses, in old French, inscribed on the pave- 
ment of the nave, which state that the main part of the 
building was the work of three successive architects : 
• Maistre Robert de Lusarche, M aistre Thomas de Cor- 
mont, and Maistre Regnault.' 

The structure is in the customary form of a cross, 
composed of a nave and choir in the one direction and a 
transept in the other. Both the nave and the transept 
are furnished with aisles, and there are double aisles on 
each side of the choir. The following are the principal 
dimensions, as given by Mr. Whittington in French 
feet (each of which contains about 13 English inches) ; 
f^Iength from east to west, 415 feet; length of the 
transept from north to south, 182 feet ; breadth of the 
nave with its aisles, 78 feet 9 inches ; breadth of the 
transept, 42 feet 9 inches. 

The external appearance of this magnificent building 
presents a striking combination and harmony of bold- 
ness and lightness. The windows are ranged in two 
tiers, and are of so great height and breadth, being 
divided from each other only bv narrow buttresses. 



that, to adopt Mr. Whittington's expression, :no* Wall, 
properly speaking, is visible anywhere v the pile is all 
window. The buttresses stand out distinctly from the 
line of the building, and shoot up into pinnacles above 
the commencement of the roof. When Mr. Whitting- 
ton visited Amiens, in 1802 or 1803, the original 
stained glass was still in the windows, and he describes 
its effect as exceedingly beautiful ; but later authori- 
ties speak of this ornamental accessory as having been 
now removed. •' 

The only considerable extent of solid masonry is pre- 
sented by the west front ; and this is magnificent in the 
extreme. Our engraving is taken from an original draw- 
ing by Mr. W. Frome Smallwood, who has delineated 
most of the other representations of continental build- 
ings that have embellished our publication. There are, 
it will be observed, three great entrances, the central one 
of which in particular is of colossal dimensions. The 
entire breadth of the facade exceeds 160 English feet. 
" This front exhibits," says Mr. Whittington, " the 
most gorgeous display of statuary ; armies of saints, 
prophets, martyrs, and angels, line the door- ways, 
crowd the walls, and swarm round all the pinnacles ; 
nothing can be more rich." The wall is so deep as, in 
each of the doors, to admit of eight parallel rows of 
statues running up and ribbing the arch. The execu- 
tion of many of these figures evinces great talent in 
the artist, and a correctness of taste which we do not 
often find in Gothic sta&iary. In the south porch there 
are also several fine statues. We give below a copy 
of one representing the Virgin and her Child, which, 
both in outline, expression, attitude, and drapery, 
possesses a simplicity and beauty that would do honour 
to a better school. 



[Virgin and Child, from South Porch.) 

Above the central door is a noble circular or 
madrigal window ; others, similar to which, ornament 
the north and south terminations of the transept. The 
towers over the extremities of the west front are 
each of the height of 210 French, that is, about 230 
English, feet, There is besides a wooden spire orej 



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[Februak* §, 



the intersection of the nave and transept ; but it doe9 
not claim much admiration. 

The view on entering the church is in the highest 
degree striking and splendid. Owing to the organ 
being placed over the west end of the nave, the whole 
extent of the interior opens at once on the eye. The 
unusual loftiness of the roof, which is about 145 
English feet from the pavement, adds powerfully to the 
effect. The arches, which unite the rows of columns 
on each side of the nave, are also very high, and 
have a most majestic air. Rows of chapels* rich with 
sculpture and other decorations, display themselves on 
each side, amidst the blaze of light that falls from the 
spacious windows. But the crowning ornament is a 
semi-circular colonnade, penetrated with lancet-shaped 
arches, which terminates the choir, and is of course full 
in view. " The choir," says Mr. Whittington, " is 
superb ; it is paved with fine marble, and angels, lean- 
ing forward from every pillar, support the Tights ; at 
the termination, a mass of clouds, with gold rays burst- 
ing forth, has an exciting effect." The length of the 
choir is 130 feet (French), and between it and the 
nave there is an interval of 18 feet. The Lady Chapel 
beyond the choir is 45 feet in length. 

Some of the monumental sculptures are worthy of 
observation — one particularly, in the choir, in which 
there is a representation of a child weeping. There 
are also on each side of the grand entrance the tombs 
of Bishops Evrard and d'Abbeville, the founder and 
finisher of the cathedral, with their figures in brass. 
Among the relics preserved in the choir are shown what 
are called the bones of St. Firmin, the founder of the 
see of Amiens, about whose aera, however, there is a 
good deal of difference among the authorities. Some 
say he lived in the first century ; while others assign 
him to the third, or even the fourth* They used also to 
show here the head of John the Baptist, which was 
alleged to have been brought from Constantinople about 
the beginning of the thirteenth century. At the Revo- 
lution, the cathedral of Amiens was pillaged of all its. 
more valuable ornaments ; but the fabric was saved 
from injury by the spirit of the mayor and the inhabi- 
tants, who armed themselves in its defence when it was 
about to be attacked. 



THE BILLS OF MORTALITY. 

These interesting records can be considered only an 
approximations to the truth ; for even if we did not 
know previously how unauthentic are the sources from 
which they are compiled, the bills themselves bear upon 
their face the most obvious evidence of their unprofes- 
sional origin. Yet it must be confessed that there has 
been a rapid improvement in them, indicating to a 
certain extent the diffusion of medical knowledge. 
They no longer tell us, as they formerly did, that some 
persons die planet-struck, or that others are carried off 
by headmovldxhof and horsenhothead: and the insertion 
of diseases formerly passed over in silence shows not 
that the diseases are new, but that a little more tact in 
the discrimination of maladies has been communicated 
even to the uneducated. 

The Bills of Mortality are a part of the domestic 
history of the years to which they belong ; and the pre- 
valence of some diseases, such as dysentery and scurvy, 
is an infallible proof of the filth and wretchedness of 
the population which is swept away by them. It is 
commonly stated by historians that the plague has 
never appeared in London since 1665; and they attri- 
bute its permanent absence to the great fire of the fol- 
lowing year, which, by destroying the city, forced, as it 
were, the citizens to rebuild it in a more salubrious as 
well as a more commodious style. But, though we do 
not pretend to deny the advantage produced by this 
apparent calamity, yet truth compels us to state that 



the plague did appear after 166*6, and id tiotrit yHk 
carried off several hundred persons. This fact can easily 
be ascertained by any one who will take the trouble of 
inspecting the Bills of Mortality for the twelve or fifteen 
years following the Great Plague. Instead, however, 
of dilating on the curious facts with which the old 
Bills are replete, we will content ourselves at present 
with a few observations on the last annual Bill, which 
comprehends the deaths that occurred from the 1 1 th of 
December, 1832, to the 1 0th of December, 1833. They 
amounted to 26\577, being about 350 less than the 
christenings during the same period. The most fatal 
disease in the list is consumption, which is stated to 
have carried off 4355 persons. This number, though 
large, is smaller in proportion to the total deaths than 
we have been accustomed to expect; for the deaths 
from consumption in London have long been estimated 
at a fourth of the whole, and in some years have ex- 
ceeded this proportion : thus in 1799 they were 1 in 3*8, 
and in 1803 they were 1 in 3*6. Everyone knows that 
slight cases of this disease are benefited by a removal 
to a warmer, and especially a more equable, climate 
than our own. Madeira most perfectly answers both 
these conditions, and is consequently the fittest residence 
for phthisical patients. Some places, which were long 
but undeservedly recommended, such as Monfcpelier and 
Marseilles, are extremely inferior to many warm and 
sheltered spots in England; for example, Torquay in 
Devonshire and (tastings in Sussex. 

Age and debility are said to nave carried off 2952 
persons. This is always the most inaccurate item in 
the Bills \ for although debility accompanies the majo- 
rity of serious diseases, it can scarcely ever be fatal of 
itself: and the number of those who die of old age 
merely, that is, of a gradual decay of the vital powers, 
without any special disorder of a single organ, is so 
small, that 52 Would be much nearer the mark than 
2952. Two thousand one hundred and forty deaths 
are ascribed to convulsions ; these occur most frequently 
in young children, and hardly ever take place without 
some important derangement of a principal organ, as 
the brain or alimentary canal. Dr. Darwin supposed, 
with great ingenuity, that convulsions are not a disease, 
but a natural effort to relieve disease by getting rid of 
an accumulation of nervous irritability. 

Asthma is stated to have destroyed 1265 ; but though, 
strictly speaking, this term can only be applied to diffi- 
culty of breathing occurring in paroxysms, in ordinary 
language it is used for almost any chronic disease at- 
tended with short breath ; no confidence, therefore, can 
be placed in the Bills in this particular. One thousand 
one hundred and fifty deaths are ascribed to cholera. 
It is probable that many of those attributed to inflam- 
mation {'2607 in number), as well as to inflammation 
of the bowels and stomach (499 in number), were in 
reality caused by the Asiatic cholera. Only 574 deaths 
are set down to small-pox, a disease which, forty years 
since, destroyed between 4 and 5000 annually in London. 
It has been the fashion of late to talk with great distrust 
of vaccination, as if it had become an exceedingly 
dubious preventive ; but to what can the diminished 
mortality be attributed, excepting to the cow-pox ? 
Two things, however, may be conceded : first, that re- 
vaccinaiion, as it never can be injurious, so it may often 
be commendable ; and secondly, that it would be desi^ 
rable to obtain a fresh supply of matter from the cow 
as it is highly probable that the virus may have beer 
weakened by its transmission through a host of huinai 
beings. This experiment appears to have been trie* 
with success by Mr. Macpherson, at Moorshedabad it 
Bengal, in the autumn of 1832. The symptomatic 
fever was more violent than usaal, and the natives it 
consequence felt more confidence in the efficacy of this 
little operation. But five deaths are ascribed to dyaea- 



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t«ry, and four to hydrophobia ; tjie fprrner disease once 
carried off its thousands in this Jown, while the latter, 
though very rare, might be supposed to he exceedingly 
eouimon, from the fear with which it inspires in any 
sensible persons, M. IJuisson. has lately stated tQ the 
Royal Academy of Sciences jp Paris, that he has dis- 
covered a cure for hydrophobia, Jt consists in the use 
of the vapour-bath, wbieh he has tried in numerous 
instances, and with only one failure, {t remains to be 
seen if his remedy will succeed in the hands of other 
practitioners. Five deaths are recorded tq have taken 
place from excessive drinking; but this is merely a list 
of those sots whom liquor deprived of life immediately 
after having bereft them of their senses ; for, if the 
truth were known, half the cases put down to dropsy, 
diseased liver, &c. f might be fairly charged to gin. 



THE INDIANS OF CALIFORNIA. 

The Indians of California may, without injustice, be 
classed lower in the scale of mankind even than the 
Esquimaux. Equally inanimate and filthy in habit, they 
do not possess that ingenuity and perseverance which 
their northern neighbours can boast ; sullen and lazy, 
they only rouse themselves when pressed by want ; and 
in the settlements of the missionaries, called Missions, 
where the cravings of hunger and thirst are satisfied, 
coercion alone goads them on to labour. 

The men are large but not muscular, nor of a 
manly appearance; their complexion is very dark, and 
their features partake of the negro cast; the hair is 
loug, but not coarse. The women are also large, their 
limbs and features regular, but not handsome: they 
perform all the household work, and are quite slaves 
to the other sex. Both sexes tattoo, but without any 
regular design in the marks on the skin ; they perforate 
the lobes of the ears, and wear in them pieces of wood 
four to six inches in length, ornamented with feathers ; 
their head-dresses and waist-belts are also adorned with 
decorated wood and pieces of bone, teeth of animals, and 
mother-of-pearl. They use no pottery, or earthenware, 
but work baskets so close as to contain fluids. Bows 
and arrows are their only weapons ; — they are of fir, and 
slightly made ; but, to give toughness to the bow, which 
is about three feet in length, the back part of it is 
strengthened with a glutinous composition of deer- 
sinews. The arrowe are about the same length, very 
slender, and aimed at the points with small pieces 
of flint jagged at the edges. 

The use of the t*w'w<il> or vapour-bath, of which tbey 
are passionately food, is peculiar to this part of North 
America. It consists of a structure of mud, the floor of 
which is sunk from four to five feet below the surface 
of the earth, of a circular form, about fifteen or 
eighteen feet in diameter. Besides the entrance, which 
is provided with a short passage to check the too ready 
admission of the external air, there is a small orifice in 
the iop to allow of the escape of the smoke from o Are 
kindled in the centre of the temiscal. Around this fire, 
and with their feet towards it, the Indians lie wrapped, 
in their thick woollen blankets, and continue so till the 
whole frame is reduced to a nervous dJ.riJity by ex- 
cessive perspiration : in this state they quit their warm rer 
treat, and plunge themselves into a stream of cold water, 
H*»r which they are careful always to place their temiscal. 

The Indians pay their adorations to an evil spirit, 
who is supposed to preaide over every thing, and whose 
displeasure they wish to avert by worship. This -spirit 
is believed to be supreme, and unassisted ia his office 
by any interior agents. They have a full conviction of 
a future existence, and expect to enjoy happiness after 
this life in some delightful island in the sky, which 
happiness, being measured by their present ideas, con- 
sists in sensual g ratification. Immediately after the 



breath has left the body f the eorpse fy burned without 
removing it from the spot ; and, as their huts are not 
of laborious structure, they share in the conflagration. 

The number of petty tribes is almost countless ; and, 
what is singular, almost every tribe speaks a language, 
or perhaps dialect, which is not understood by the rest. 
Some dialects have the harsh sound of the Esquimaux, 
the words generally terminating in a/c, ik, vk-, while 
others are sofl and full of vowels. 

Their huts are formed of stakes driven into the 
ground, generally circular, and thatched with straw; 
facility of construction being desirable, on .account of 
the tribes frequently changing their stations. From 
the vermin which abound in these rude dwellings, it 
becomes necessary to fire them occasionally. Although 
the country is overrun with horses, the Indians make 
no use of them. 

THE VILLAGE OF BROEK. 

[From a Cor respondent.] 

There is one particular village in Holland (where all 
villages and towns are very clean) remarkable even in 
that country for its excessive cleanliness, and for some 
other striking peculiarities; — this is Broek, which is 
situated at the distance of a pleasant morning's excur- 
sion from Amsterdam. Although so near to that great 
city, it does not appear that it* has been often visited by 
foreign travellers. I went there, however, and though 
I met with little I could recommend to the unqualified 
imitation of Englishmen, I was so much pleased with 
the strange novelty that reigned throughout the place, 
that I would point it out to all future tourists who 
may have a few hours to spare ; and think a brief 
description of it may possess some general interest. 

The journey from Amsterdam Is, as is so usual in 
Holland, an amusing alternation of land and water 
conveyance. Starling from the city, I crossed its port, 
and then, after riding a little on terra firm a, embarked 
on the new grand canal, which the industrious-spirited 
Dutch finished not long ago, after prodigious labour 
and expense. I was conveyed along this great canal 
(cut in order to render the navigation from a part of the 
Zuyder Zee to the port of Amsterdam at once more 
speedy and safe) for somewhat more than half an hour, 
when I again set foot on dry land, at a little village 
curiously built along one pf the banks of the said canal. 

From this village, a truly Dutch scene presented 
itself: there was a very wide expanse of pasture* land of 
the niost vivid green, — even greener, I should say, than 
onr fields in England or Ireland,- — and as. fiat, in every 
part, as a billiard table. Smaller canals, ditches, and 
here and there lakes or large pools, where several of 
these threads of water seemed brought to a head, tra- 
versed or broke this even ground. The colour of all 
th/s, inland water, which for the most part is salt or 
brackish, was a dull olive-green. Numerous herds of 
the finest and fattest cattle 1 ever beheld roamed over 
these wjde pastures* 

Jtfot many years ago, the whole of this rich plain was 
laid under water. The villages and communes, among 
whom it was divided, could not, unfortunately, agree as 
tp the proportion of money and labour to be paid by 
each towards the repair of a great dike or embankment, 
which protected them all equally from inundation. The 
dispute was maintained so obstinately by alt parties, 
that recourse was had to law; ami, while advocates 
were debating, the sea, becoming impatient, entered 
without further ceremony, and put an end to the suit, 
by demolishing the dike altogether, and rolling its 
waves over an immense extent of rich pasture. The 
damage thus sustained was enormous. The embank- 
ment, which had only required repairing, was now to be 
raised anew; but, with true Dutch perseveratice, it 
was raised. The plain was recovered, and now tba 



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[February S, 1834. 



pasture it produces is said to be much finer than ever. 
It is recorded, to the honour of the inhabitants of the 
village of Broek, who were among the sufferers, that, 
at this period of calamity, when all their neighbours 
required and received assistance from government, or 
from subscriptions made by the public on their behalf, 
they (the people of Broek), in consequence of their 
superior industry and economy, stood in no need of any 
such aid, and had the spirit to reject it when it was 
offered them. They even did more than this ; for they 
contributed, with their own funds, to the collection 
node throughout the kingdom of Holland for the 
benefit of those whose grounds had been inundated. 

To continue my journey : — at the village on the grand 
canal, where I landed, I was offered the conveyance of 
a carriage to Broek ; but finding that the distance was 
short, I preferred walking. In little more than an hour 
I reached a collection of the cleanest and most brightly- 
coloured houses that eye can behold. They were not 
crowded together, but stood, at considerable distances 
from each other, with gardens, flowering orchards, and 
walks between them. At least two-thirds of these 
houses were scattered round a small lake, the colour of 
whose waters was the same dull olive green I have 
already mentioned. This was Broek. From the open 
manner in which the village is built, it looks much 
larger, and a place of greater population, than it is in 
reality. On inquiry, I found that it did not contain 
more than 500 inhabitants. 

On entering what seemed the principal street, (if 
street it might be called,) which was a prolongation of 
the mathematically straight road, with a sleepy canal 
on one side of it, by which I had come, I found the 
ground not macadamized or paved with trottoirs on 
either side as in England, but covered all over with 
fine, polished stones, and bricks of different colours 
laid almost with the regularity and neatness of mosaic, 
and kept clean and bright by constant manual labour. 
But how shall I describe the houses? To have an idea 
of them, you must fancy a group of children's doll- 
houses, span new, without a spot of soil upon them, 
— clean and bright as they came from the toy-maker's 
hands; — and (if you can) imagine these dilated to full 
size, inhabited by men, women and children, and sur- 
rounded by gardens, groves and canals. Each house is 
painted externally with various and bright colours that are 
renewed once every year at least, and the roof is covered 
with varnished tiles as lucid as mirrors. Before each 
house there is a small space, corresponding to the little 
railed-in garden so commonly found in front of houses 
in England ; but at Broek this space is not filled with 
green turf, and plants or flowers, but is occupied by a 
pavement, composed of variously coloured stones and 
flints, which are so disposed as to represent in mosaic 
shrubs, flowers, and other natural objects. Something 
of this sort of mosaic is found in the ruins of the 
ancient city of Pompeii, but in the courts, and within 
the walls of the houses ;— here, however, it is fairly in 
the streets. Nor is this all : beside the door of each 
house at Broek there are seats made of beautiful foreign 
woods, and finished as elaborately as our drawing-room 
furniture. The street doors, the window frames, the 
eaves, are all made of similar materials and equally well 
finished. The mosaic pavement in front of the house, the 
seats, the doors, and the other objects exposed externally, 
are most carefully washed and polished every day. At the 
threshold of the house, the visiter finds a pair of slippers 
to replace the boots or shoes he may have worn in 
coining, and which might soil the spotless purity that 
rejgns within. It is related with satisfaction of the 
late Emperor Alexander of Russia, that when, out of 
curiosity, he visited Broek, he readily complied with the 
custom of the place and took off his boots before he 
entered a house. 



The floor of the rooms is generally inlaid with black 
and yellow marble, so placed as to vary the colours. 
The principal apartment is almost always ornamented 
with sculpture in low relief. But it is when yon 
descend from what might be considered mere state 
rooms, or apartments kept exclusively for show, or 
grand occasions, and when you examine the common 
sitting-room, the bed-chamber, the kitchen, the scullery, 
the dairy, the stable, that the marvellous, and, indeed, 
over-scrupulous neatness and cleanliness of the people 
of Broek strike you with their full force. To make use 
of a common expression, you might, indeed, eat your 
dinner off any part of either of those places. Where- 
ever I turned my eye in them I saw nothing but 
was clean, bright, and polished as a mahogany table 
or a marble slab. The nicest English kitchen, the 
cleanest English dairy, or stable, would look dingy 
and dirty in comparison. In some instances this over- 
scrupulousness was carried to a degree that appeared 
ridiculous, — at least to me. In the kitchen there was 
a copper lever to turn on warm water to wash dishes, 
&c, which lever was kept as bright as a new halfpenny, 
and the part exposed to the touch of the hand covered 
with a hollowed piece of fine wood. In the stable 
where cows are regularly housed, and curried and rubbed 
down with all the attention we pay to blood horses, or 
to pet riding ponies, the tails of the cows were all 
turned up, and secured to the rafters of the roof by 
means of strings. 

The gardens of these houses abounded with the 
rarest flowers ; they were also ornamented with works 
of art, much more singular than tasteful. I saw red 
lions, blue tigers, yellow foxes, green hares, white 
crows, grottoes inc rusted with shells, Chinese vases, 
moving Mandarins, and other whimsical automata, 
which were evidences of wealth though not of taste. 
The whole appearance of the village of Broek, of its 
houses and accessories, had, in my fancy, much of a 
Chinese or Japanese character. What I was told of 
the retiring, exclusive character of the inhabitants also 
seemed to recall those distant parts of- the world. The 
people of Broek intermarry with one another, and 
rarely with those of any other district. They are little 
disposed to sociability, even among themselves; and 
seldom gjve dinners, or any other entertainments. I 
must mention, however, to their credit, that, until 
lately, there was no inn in their village, and that they 
entertained, in their private houses, and with great 
hospitality, any stranger that went among them. 
There is now a small inn at Broek where the traveller 
can be accommodated. To plays, coffee-houses, and 
such places of amusement, they show an aversion. 
Their industry is entirely agricultural, or rather that 
of grazing and rearing cattle. They are sober, steady, 
economical in their habits of life, and, almost without 
an exception, rich. 

But I have yet to mention one of the most extra- 
ordinary customs of the people of Broek. ^They never 
open the principal apartment of their house, which is the 
most finely furnished, except at the baptism, the marriage, 
and the death of a member of the family ; — at all other 
seasons it is almost hermetically closed, and kept as it 
were sacred. Nearly the same custom obtains at the 
neighbouring large village or town of Saardam, where 
Peter the Great, the regenerator of Russia, learned the 
art of ship-buildiug from the Dutch ; and where the 
small wooden house in which he lived whilst learning 
and practising the craft as a common shipwright, is 
still shown to the traveller. 



%• The Otfce of the Society for the Diffusion of Utefol KmwMm It •: 
. 6f, IioeolaVln Fiel4e. 

LONDON j-CHARLES KNIGHT, tt, LUDOttB STRUTR 
Printed by William Clowm, Dtlw Street, Umbttfc. 



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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



120.] 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[February 15, 1884, 



FISHMONGERS' COMPANY. 



[Fishmonger** Hall.] 



At one time the London Fishmonger! appear to 
hare been the wealthiest and most powerful of the 
City Companies. Originally they formed two great 
bodies — the Salt-fishmongers, who were incorporated 
by letters patent in 1433, in the reign of Henry VI. ; 
and the Stock-fishmongers, incorporated by charter 
from Henry VII. in 1509. Like other crafts, how- 
ever, the fishmongers certainly existed as a civic 
association long before the earliest of those dates. 
In ancient times the consumption of fish in England 
was undoubtedly much greater in proportion to the 
population than it now is. As long as the Catholic 
religion prevailed, an abstinence from flesh was ob- 
served by all ranks for a considerable part of the year ; 
and fish were of necessity consumed to a large extent, 
just as they still are in the Catholic countries of the 
Continent, where at this day the produce of our New- 
foundland fishery finds its chief market. As in these 
countries, however, so in Catholic England — the great 
consumption was of dried and salted fish. The names 
of the two old London companies are an evidence of 
this. It would have been quite impossible in those 
days for many parts of the country to have obtained a 
sufficient supply of any other kind ; and, indeed, even 
now a regular supply of fresh fish could not be gene- 
rally commanded. Although London and some other 
Itrs* towns co m— eeastderable quantities of the 
Vol, HI. 



article in the uncured state, the great trade must neces- 
sarily be in that form of it which admits of being pre- 
served for a length of time, and in that way of being 
carried, ' like other merchandise, to the most distant 
parts of the country, or to foreign countries. 

After the Reformation, the legislature attempted to 
do what the Church had formerly done, in encouraging 
the use of fish as an article of food among the people 
generally. A curious act of parliament was passed in 
1563 (the 5th Eliz., c. 5), which provided " that, as 
well for the maintenance of shipping, the increase of 
fishermen and mariners, and the repairing of port- 
towns, as for the sparing and increase of the flesh 
victual of the realm, it shall not be lawful for any to 
eat flesh on Wednesdays and Saturdays, — unless under 
the forfeiture of 3/. for each offence, — excepting cases 
of sickness, and also those by special licenses to be 
obtained." For these licenses peers were to pay to the 
poor 1/. 6s. Sd. ; knights and their wives 135. 4d. ; and 
other persons 6s. Sd. Even the license, however, did 
not permit the purchaser to eat beef on the forbidden 
days, but only mutton, or other kinds of flesh. It is 
added, " But because no person shall misjudge tha 
intent of this statute, be it enacted, that whoever shall, 
by preaching, teaching, writing, or open speech, notify 
that any eating of -fish, or forbearing of flesh, mentioned 
in this statute, is of any necessity for the serving of tfat 

I 



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[February 16 



soul of man, or that it is the service of God, otherwise 
than as other politic laws are and be, then such persons 
shall be punished as spreaders of false news ought 
to be." By a subsequent statute (the 27th Elizabeth, 
c. 2), the prohibition against eating flesh was limited to 
Saturdays ; but it was still commanded that no vic- 
tuallers should sell flesh either on Fridays or Satur- 
days, or at all during the season of Lent. 

These regulations must have tended to keep up 
among the people their old habit of living to a con- 
siderable extent upon dried and salted fish. Mean- 
while the two city companies had been incorporated 
into one by Henry VIII., in 153C, under the title of 
" the Wardens and Commonalty of the Mystery of 
Fishmongers." Thus united, they form the fourth city 
company, standing immediately after the Drapers', and 
before the Goldsmiths'. 

In 1750, Mr. Tomkyns, the clerk of the Company, in 
addressing Frederick Prince of Wales on his admission 
as a freeman, said, " This Company, Sir, is famous for 
having had near threescore lord mayors of the city of 
London, besides many of the most considerable mer- 
chants and eminent citizens, free of it." At one period, 
so great was the influence of the Company, that it gave 
to the city six lord mayors in the space of twenty-four 
years. Of these the rvost famous was the last, William 
Walworth, who, in 1380, slew Watt Tyler in Smithfield, 
at the head of 30,000 rebels. For this achievement 
Walworth was knirhted by the king, Richard II.; 
and, according to a common, though somewhat doubt- 
ful, tradition, the dagger was added to the City arms. 

All this glory, however, seems to have brought upon 
the Fishmongers not a little envy and hostility from their 
fellow-citizens. Walworth was succeeded in the mayor- 
alty by the celebrated John of Northampton, who pro- 
fessed himself the advocate of violent changes, and who, 
had he presided over the city in the time of Watt 
Tyler's insurrection, would have been much more likely 
to join the rebels than to kill their chief. John of 
Northampton (known also by the popular aliases of 
Cumbertown and Troubletown) was a draper, and, a* 
such, no friend of the Fishmongers. Availing himself 
of the power which his place gave him, and also of 
enmities which had long existed between certain other 
companies and this prosperous trade, he appears to 
have set himself not merely to diminish their weight 
and importance, but to lay his rivals entirely prostrate. 
He not only got the king to allow foreigners (as 
strangers, or persons not freemen, used to be called) to 
sell fish in London, in violation of the monopoly which 
the Company of Fishmongers had long enjoyed ; but, 
according to Maitland, he compelled the Company " to 
acknowledge that their occupation was no craft, and 
therefore unworthy of being reckoned among the other 
mysteries." It was declared that, for the future, no 
lord mayor should be chosen from the Fishmongers. 
However, Troubletown's term of authority having 
ended, the Company was restored, by parliament, to all 
its old rights and privileges, the right of holding courts 
for the trial of complaints alone excepted. It was 
directed that all cases which had formerly been decided 
in the Company's court should, for the future, be 
brought before that of the Lord Mayor. 

Before the Salt-fishmongers and the Stock-fish- 
mongers were united, they had no fewer than six halls, 
each having one in the three streets then principally 
inhabited by the members of the trade i namely, Thames 
Street (anciently called Fishmonger Row), Old Fish 
Street, and New Fish Street. On their incorporation 
into one society, they chose for their common hall one 
of their two nouses in Thames Street, which we are 
told had Wen given to them in the reign of Henry VI., 
by Sir John Cornwall, Lord Franhope. This old 
building, hewc7"?r, was destroyed in the Great Fire ; 



and soon after a new hall was erected on the same site 
from a design by Sir Christopher Wren. It was a 
handsome and showy structure. Maitland, writing 
about the middle of the last century, says, " The front 
next the Thames, which has been lately repaired and 
beautified at a very extraordinary expense, exceeds 
every thing of its kind in this city, and yields a most 
graceful and pleasant prospect, with a magnificent 
double flight of stone stairs on the wharf." A view of 
this building is given in Mr. Bray ley's c Londiniana,' Vol 
II., as it appeared in June, 1S27. Soon after that dais 
it was taken down to make room for the approaches to 
the New London Bridge ; and a very splendid new hall 
has since been erected a little to the west of the plaos 
where its predecessor stood. Our engraving presents 
a view of it as seen from the street and the river; 
and a full description of it may be found in the * Com- 
panion to the Almanac' for 1834. It stands between 
Thames Street and the river, immediately to the west 
of the elevated road leading to the bridge, to the level 
of which the maiu part of the building is raised by two 
lower stories; the undermost disposed into cellars, 
warehouses, and shops, and the higher into offices and 
other apartments for the use of the Company. The 
superstructure commences about five or six feet above 
the level of the Bridge road ; and also consists of two 
stories. It is faced with Portland stone ; and there are 
three distinct fronts, one to the east, another towards 
Thames Street, and the third looking to the river. The 
last is ornamented by a colonnade of granite, which 
supports a terrace. The Thames Street front presents 
a receding centre and two projecting wings. That to 
the east is the entrance front, and consists of a range 
of attached columns in ths centre, and two wings 
adorned with pilasters, with a lofty attic surmounting 
the entablature. These fronts are all separate composi- 
tions ; and it is objected to the building that, however 
great may be their particular merits, they are not 
adapted to produce that unity of effect which would 
have been desirable. 



CASPAR HAUSER*-, No. III. 

:Cw>eUded from N». U9] 

As the powers of Caspar's mind opened, he became less 
interested by the playthings by which he had been at first 
so entirely absorbed. Even his love for horses was trans- 
ferred from the wooden representative to the living ani- 
mal, and in an amazingly short time he became a most 
accomplished and fearless horseman. His connexion 
with Professor Daumer, and his intercourse with others, 
soon led him to feel his own deficiencies. It was very 
affecting to hear his often-repeated lamentation, that 
there were so many things, known to the people of the 
world, which he had yet to learn. But he did net 
despair. The curiosity, the thirst for knowledge, and 
the inflexible perseverance with which he fixed his 
attention to anything he was determined to learn or 
comprehend, were truly wonderful. 

It is painful, but not surprising, to learn that under 
the new perceptions of his senses and intellect, and the 
processes they were undergoing, his feelings were far 
from pleasurable. He longed to go back " to the man 
with whom he had always been. 1 At home, (in his 
hole,) he said, he had never suffered so much from 
head-ache, and had never been so much teased, as since 
he was in the world. Nevertheless, he was wilting to 
remain at Nuremburg until he had learned what the 
burgomaster and the professor knew ; but then he must 
be taken home, and he would show the man what he 
had learned in the meantime. When surprise was ex* 
pressed that he should wish to return to that abomi- 
nably bad man, he replied, with mild indignation, 
" Man not bad — ma ne ft* bed tet. M Against " the 



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man with whom be had always heen," Caspar never 
showed the least anger, and was never will jug to hear 
that he ought to be punished, until the following beau- 
tiful and affecting incident occurred in the gradual 
development of his mental life. 

" It was in the month of August, 1S29, when, on a 
fine summer evening, his instructor showed him for the 
first time the starry heavens. His astonishment and 
transport surpassed all description. He could not be 
satiated with its sight, and was ever returning to gaze 
upon it ; at the same time fixing accurately with his 
eye the different groups that were pointed out to him, 
remarking the stars most distinguished for their bright- 
ness, and observing the differences of their respective 
colours. * That,' he exclaimed, ' is indeed the most 
beautiful sight I have ever yet seen in the world. But 
who has placed all these numerous beautiful candles 
there ? who lights them ? who puts them out ? ' When 
he was told, that like the sun, with which he was 
already acquainted, they always continue to give light, 
he asked again, who placed them there above, that they 
may always continue to give light ? At length, standing 
motionless, with his head bowed down, and his eyes 
staring, he fell into a deep and serious meditation. 
When he again recovered his recollection, his transport 
had been succeeded by deep sadness. He sank trem- 
bling into a chair, and asked, why that wicked man 
had kept him always locked up, and had never shown 
him any of these beautiful things. He (Caspar) had 
never done any harm. He then broke out into a fit 
of crying, which lasted for a long time, and which 
could with difficulty be soothed; and said, that * the 
man with whom he had always been ' might now also 
be locked up for a few days, that he might learn to 
know how hard it was to be treated so." 

We may here remark that Cicero quotes Aristotle 
as affirming, and repeats the affirmation himself, that 
a person brought, like Caspar, at an advanced period of 
life to the fiist view of the skies and the external 
world, would not fail to consider all he saw as the 
work of an intelligent mind, even though he had never 
heard of a God. We see this remarkably proved in the 
ease of the poor boy whose history we are detailing. 

As Caspar Hauser increased in knowledge, and in 
the experiences and sensations of life, his general 
appearance and mode of existence became like those of 
other men. He learned to eat all meats except pork ; 
but all fermented liquors, and even tea and coffee, were 
still abominable to him. "His perceptions gradually 
became much less rapid and tenacious. " Of the gi- 
gantic powers of his memory, and of other astonishing 
qualities, not a trace remained ; and he retained nothing 
extraordinary but his extraordinary fate, his indescribable 
goodness, and the exceeding amiableness of his disposi- 
tion." Yet, while in understanding a man, but in know- 
ledge a child,— and in many things more ignorant than a 
child, — his language and demeanour could not but often 
exhibit him as a mingled compound of a child, youth, 
and man, without its being easy to determine to which 
portion of life this combination of them all properly 
belonged. He was himself oppressively conscious of 
his peculiar situation, and the consciousness gave a 
shade of melancholy and dejection to his character and 
countenance. He would lament that he was already so 
old, and was still obliged to learn what children knew 
long ago. He would say " I wish I had never come 
out of my cage. He who put me there should have 
left me there ; then I should never have known and 
felt the want of anything ; and I should never have 
experienced the misery of never having been a child, 
and of having come so late into the world." 

He was able to give little information concerning the 
previous portion of his existence, and that confirmed 
the conclusions at which the people of Nuremburg had 



arrived. There was no doubt that he had always lived 
in a hole (a small, low apartment which he sometimes 
called a cage) where the light never entered, and a 
sound was never heard. In this place it appears that 
he never, even in his sleep, lay with his whole body 
stretched out, but sat, waking and sleeping, with his 
legs extended before him, and his back supported in an 
erect posture. Some peculiar property of his place of 
rest, or some particular contrivance, appears to have 
made it necessary that he should always remain in this 
position. An unusual formation of the knee seems to 
have resulted from it, so that, when Caspar sat down 
with the leg and thigh extended horizontally on the 
floor, the back formed a right angle with the flexure of 
the thigh, and the knee-joint lay exteuded so close to 
the floor that not the smallest hollow was perceptible 
in the ham, between which and the floor a common 
playing-card could scarcely be thrust. In this dungeon, 
whenever he awoke from sleep, he found a loaf and a 
pitcher of water by him. Sometimes the water had a 
bad taste, probably from the infusion of opium ; for 
whenever this was the case he could no longer keep 
his eyes open, but was compelled to fall asleep ; and 
when he afterwards awoke, he found that he had a 
clean shirt on, and that his nails had been cut ; from 
which, and other circumstances, it appears that Caspar 
met with a certain degree of careful attention during 
the period of his incarceration. He never saw the face 
of the man who brought him his meat and drink, who 
also never spoke to him, except to utter the " Heuta 
wlihn," &c, which Caspar so unmeaningly repeated 
when found in Nuremburg. In his hole he had two 
wooden horses and several ribands : with these horses 
he had always amused himself so long as he remained 
awfeke ; and his only occupation was to make them run 
by his side, and to fix or tie the ribands about them in 
different positions. Thus one day had passed as the 
other; but he had never felt the want of anything, had 
never been sick, and, once only excepted, had never felt 
the eensation of pain. It is also remarkable that he 
never had dreams until after he went to live wilh 
Professor Daumer, when he regarded them as real 
appearances. 

How long he had continued to live in this situation 
he knew not, for he had no knowledge of time. 
He had no recollection of ever^ having been in a 
different situation, or in any other than that place. 
The man with whom he had always been never did him 
any harm but once, when he struck him a severe blow 
with a stick or piece of wood, because he had been run- 
ning his horse too hard, and had made too much noise. 
Soon after this circumstance, the man came and placed 
a small table over his t'eet^ and spread some paper 
upon it ; he then came behind him, so as not to be seen 
by him, took hold of his hand, and moved it backyard 
and forward on the paper, with a lead-pencil which he 
had stuck between his fingers. Caspar was exceedingly 
pleased with the black figures which appeared on the 
white paper ; and, when the man was gone, was never 
tired of drawing these figures repeatedly on the paper. 
Another time the man came to the place where he lay, 
lifted him up, and endeavoured to teach him first to 
stand and then to walk. Finally, the man came one 
day and, taking him on his back, carried him out of 
the prison. It appears that he fainted on being brought 
into the light of day and the fresh air. He noticed 
none of the objects around him during the journey. 
He was only conscious that the man who had been 
leading him put the letter which he had brought with 
him into his hand and then vanished ; alter which a 
citizen observed him and took him to the guard-room. 

It seems, from this account, that Caspar had at length 
become a dangerous burden to those who kept him 
secretly confined. He had grown restless; his powers 

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clue to the mystery of his life and death has yet been 
obtained, although a reward of 5000 florins has been 
offered by Lord Stanhope for the discovery of the 
assassin. The funeral of Caspar Hauser took place on 
the 26th of December, and was attended by crowds 
of persons, all moved by the deepest sympathy, for the 
poor youth was greatly beloved. His preceptor, Dr. 
Fuhrmann, pronounced an oration over his grave, in 
the course of which he alluded to the last words of the 
? ictim, who, on being asked if he forgave his enemies, 



of lift were more vivid ; — he sometimes made a noise, 
and it was necessary to keep him quiet by means of 
severe chastisement. But why they did not get rid of 
him in some other manner? why they did not destroy 
him ? why he had not been put out of the world as a 
child ? — these are questions which still remain without 
solution. It seems to have been expected that he would 
have been lost, as a vagabond or an idiot, in some 
public institution at Nuremburg ; or, if any attention 
was paid to the recommendation he brought with him, 
as a soldier in some regiment. But none of these events 
took place. The unknown foundling met with humane 
consideration, and became the object of universal public 
attention. The journals were filled with accounts of 
this mysterious young man, and with conjectures re- 
specting him ; — the development of his mind was every 
where spoken of, — marvellous things were related to 
the public of his progress ; and it was at last reported 
that Caspar Hauser was employed in writing a history 
of his life. At this period, and probably with the view 
of preventing the execution of this intention, an attempt 
was made, on the 17th of October, 1829, to assassinate 
him in the house of Professor Daumer. He escaped 
with an inconsiderable wound on his forehead, but 
which, from the excited state of his nervous system, 
occasioned him much suffering and prolonged in- 
disposition. 

At a subsequent period Earl Stanhope adopted the 
charge of Caspar, and had him removed to Anspach, 
where he was placed under the care of an able school- 
master, with whom he also resided. It was intended that 
he should be brought to this country, in which he would 
have been tolerably safe from the dread of assassination. 
This fear, in which he long lived after the first attempt 
upon his life, seems, indeed, to have considerably Sub- 
sided after he had remained several years at Anspach 
without molestation. But his secret enemy had not lost 
sight of him. As he was leaving the Tribunals on the 
morning of December 14th, 1833, a stranger, wrapped 
in a large cloak, accosted him under the pretence of 
having an important communication to make. Caspar 
excused himself, as he was then going to dine, but 
promised tomeet the stranger in the afternoon in the 
palace-garden. The meeting took place : the stranger 
drew some papers from underneath his cloak, and, while 
Hauser was about to examine them, stabbed him twice 
near the heart with a dagger that he had kept concealed. 
The wounds were not immediately fatal. Caspar was 
able to return home, but could then only utter in 
broken syllables, " Palace-garden — purse — Uz — monu- 
ment." The tutor to whose care he had been com- 
mitted despatched the soldiers of the police to Uzen's 
monument, in the palace-garden, where they found a 
small purse of violet silk, containing a scrap of paper, 
ontorhich was written, in a disguised hand, " Hauser 
can tell you well enough why I appear here, and who I 
am. To save Hauser the trouble, I will tell you myself 
whence I come ; I come from — from — the Bavarian fron- 
tier, — on the river . I will also give you the name, 

M. L. O." According to Caspar's description, the man 
was the same who made the previous attempt upon 
his life at Nuremburg. The unfortunate Caspar 
Hauser died on the night of December 17th, in con- 
sequence of the wounds he had received; and no 



replied, w I have prayed God to forgive all whom I 
have known ; for myself personally I have nothing te 
forgave, as no one ever did me wrong. 1 ' 



OF SOLITUDE. 
Hail, old patrician trees, to groat and good ! 
Hail, ye pltbtian underwood ! 

Where the poetic hirde rejoice, 
And for their quiet necte and plenteous food 

Pay with their grateful voice. 

Hail, the poor Muse** richest manor-eect I 
Ye country houses and retreat, 

Which all the happy gods so love, 
That for you oft they quit their bright and great 

Metropolis above. 

Here Nature does a house for ne erect, 
Nature ! the wisest architect, 

Who those fond artivts doss despise 
That cau the fkir and living trees neglect, 

Yet the dead timber prise. 

Here let me, canless and unthoughtful lyings 
Hear the soft wiodi above me flying 

With all their wanton boughs dispute, 
And the more tuneful birds to both replying 

Nor be myself, too, mute. 

A silver ttream shall roll his waters neas, 
Gilt with the sunbeams here and there, 

On whose enamelled banks I'll walk, 
And see how prettily they smile, 

And hear how prettily they talk. 

Ah ! wretched, and too solitary he 
Who loves not hit own company I 

He'll feel the weight of 't many a day, 
Unless he call in sin or vanity 

To help to heart away. 

Cowutir, born 1618, died 16*7. 



The Grateful Bonze. — A mandarin, who took much 
pride in ' appearing with a number of jewels on every part 
of his robe, was onee accosted by an old sly bonze, who, 
following him through several streets, and bowing often to 
the ground, thanked him for his jewels. " What does tbe 
man mean ? " cried the mandarin : " Friend, I never gave 
thee any of my jewels.* ' " No," replied the other, •• but 
you have let me look at them, and that is all the use yon 
can make of them yourself; so there is no difference be- 
tween us, except that you have the trouble of watching them, 
and that i» an employment I do not much desire." — 
Goldsmiths-Citizen of the World. 



Feasting the Poor.— Before the present mode of pro- 
viding for the indigent by a compulsory rate existed, large 
sums were daily distributed by the kings of England in 

Erivate alms; and the festivals of particular saints were 
onoured by feasting many thousands of the poor at their 
expense. Among the Close Rolls, still extant, by which 
such entertainment for the poor is ordered, the following — 
all of which refer to the year 1244, the 28th of Henry IIL — 
may be mentioned. In January, the king's treasurer ia 
commanded to cause 1 5,000 poor persons to be fed in St. 
Paul's Church-yard on the day of the Conversion of Paul, 
and to cause 1500 wax tapers to be made and placed in 
St. Paul's Church, London, on the same occasion. In the 
next month, the same person is ordered to give directions 
for feeding as many persons as can enter the great and 
lesser hall at Westminster, on the anniversary of Joan, the 
king's sister, formerly queen of Scotland. In December, 
6000 persons are ordered to be fed at Westminster, on the 
Feast of the Circumcision ; and, with a considerate view to 
the inclemency of the season, it is particularly directed that 
all the more aged and infirm should be fed in the greater 
and lesser hall, the less infirm and middle-aged in the 
King's Chamber, and the children in the Queens Chamber. 



The Kitchens of King John.— An order, dated April 1 9. 
1206, commands Hugh de Nevill to have the king's kitchen 
at Clarendon roofed with shingles, and to cause two new 
kitchens to be erected, one at Marlborough and the other at 
Ludgershall, to dress the royal dinners in ; and it is par- 
ticuiarly directed that each kitchen should be provided with 
a furnace sufficiently laxge to toast two or three ojlqo. 



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THE PENNY MA4AZIN* 
THE OBELISK OF LUXOIt 



61 




[Hieroglyphics on the uppenaett 
We fancy there are few of our readers but have read 
descriptions and seen drawings or prints of the two 
remarkable obelisks called Cleopatra's Needles, near 
Alexandria, on the coast of E(rypt. Of these only one 
is erect ; the other has been tor many years prostrate 
and half buried in sand. 

Among the treasures of antiquity found in the in- 
terior of Egypt, and particularly in the Thebaid, were, 
till very lately, two granite columns of precisely the 
! character as Cleopatra's Needles. Of these, one 



(W«tFMtJ 
dlvieWa ef the Obelisk of Luxor.] 

remains on the desolate spot ; the other, with great 
labour and expense, has been transported to the flourish" 
ing capital of France. 

When the French army, in their attempt on Egypt, 
penetrated as far as Thebes, they were, almost to a mas, 
overpowered by the majesty of the ancient monuments 
they saw before them ; and Bonaparte is then said to 
have conceived the idea of removing at least one of 
the obelisks to Paris. But reverses and defeat fel» 
lowed. The French were forced to abandon Egypt | 



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and the English remaining masters of tht seas, effectu- 
ally prevented any such importation into France. 

The project of Bonaparte had the sort of classical 
precedent he so much admired. Roman conquerors and 
Roman emperors had successively enriched the capital of 
the world with the monuments of subdued nations, and 
with the spoils of art from Sicily, Greece, and Egypt. 
Among these, the Emperor Augustus ordered two 
Egyptian obelisks, also of the same character as Cleo- 
patra's Needles, to be brought to Rome. To this end 
an immense vessel of a peculiar construction was built; 
and when, after a tedious and difficult voyage, it reached 
the Tyber with its freight, one of the columns was placed 
in the Grand Circus, and the other in the Campus 
Ma-tiu*, at Rome. Caligula adorned Rome with a 
third Egyptian obelisk, obtained in the same manner. 

The Emperor Constantine, still more ambitious of 
these cosily foreign ornaments, resolved to decorate his 
new-founded capital of Constantinople with the largest 
of all the obelisks that stood on the ruins of Thebes. 
He succeeded in having it conveyed as far as Alex- 
andria; but, dying at the time, its destination was 
changed, and an enormous* raft, managed by 300 
rowers, transported the grauite obelisk from Alex- 
andria to Rome. The difficulties encountered by the 
large, flat, awkward vessel do not appear to have oc- 
curred during the passage across .the Mediterranean, 
which was, no doubt, effected during the fine, settled 
summer season, when that sea is often, for weeks 
together, almost as calm as a small fresh-water lake ; 
but they presented themselves at the passage of the 
mouth ef the Tyber, and in the shallows of that river. 
When all these obstacles were overcome, it required the 
labour of thousands of men to set up the obelisk upon 
its base at Rome. • 

The Emperor Theodosiua, at last, succeeding in bring- 
ing an obelisk from Egypt to Constantinople, erected I*, 
in the Hippodrome. Though this was of an inferior size 
(being rather under than over fifty feet), it is recorded 
that it required thirty-two days' labour and the most 
complicated contrivances of mechanics to set it upright. 

TheConstantinopolitan obelisk still stands whtre it was 
first erected by the emperor ; but those of Rome have 
been removed by the Popes. In all, there are twelve 
ancient obelisks erect in the modem city of Rome*. 

Thirty years after Bonaparte's first conception of the 
idea, the French government, then under Charles X., 
having obtained the consent of the pasha of Egypt, 
determined that one of the obelisks of Luxor should be 
brought to Paris. "The difficulties of doing this/' 
says M. Delaborde, " were great. In the first place it 
was necessary to build a vessel which should be large 
enough to contain the monument, — deep enough to 
stand the sea, — and, at the same time, draw so little 
water as to be able to ascend and descend such rivers 
as the Nile and the Seine." * 

In the month of February, 1831, when the crown of 
France had passed into the hands of Louis Philippe, 
a vessel, built as nearly as could be on the necessary 
principles, was finished and equipped at Toulon. This 
vessel, which for the sake of lightness was chiefly made 
of fir and other White wood, was named the " Louxor." 
The crew consisted of 120 seamen, under the command 
of Lieutenant Verninac of the French royal navy ; and 
there went, besides, sixteen mechanics of different pro- 
fessions, and a master to direct the works, under the 
superintendence of M. Lebas, formerly a pupil of the 
Polytechnic School, and now a naval engineer. 

M. J. P. Angelina accompanied the expedition in 
quality of surgeon-major ; and to a volume which this 
gentleman has recently published at Paris we are in- 
debted for an account of its proceedings. 

• See ' The British Museum — Egyptian Aiitiquilte*,' iu thu 
* library of Katertaiauig KuuwWjp/ 



On the lftth of April, 1831 (which we should hav* 
thought two months too early in the season), the 
" Louxor'' sailed from Toulon. Some rather violent 
winds and heavy seas proved that a vessel so built was 
not very seaworthy, end appear to have somewhat 
frightened the ** Chirurgien- Major ;" but they arrived 
without any serious accident in the port of Alexandria 
on the 3d of May. After staying forty-two days at 
Alexandria, the expedition sailed again on the 15th 
of June for the Rosetta mouth of the Nile, which they 
entered on the following day, though not without 
danger from the sand- bank which the river has de- 
posited there. At Rosetta they remained some days; 
and on the 20th of June, M. Lebas, the engineer, two 
officers, and a few of the tailors and workmen, leaving the 
" Louxor" to make her way up the river slowly, em- 
barked in common Nile-boats for Thebes, carrying with 
them the tools and materials necessary for the removal 
of the obelisk. On the Tth of July, when the waters 
of the Nile had risen considerably, the " Louxor" 
sailed from Rosetta; on the lath she reacherj Boulak, 
the port of Grand Cairo, where she remained until the 
19th ; and she did not arrive at Thebes until the 14th 
of August, which was two months after her departure 
from Alexandria. 

The Turks and Arabs were astonished at seeing so 
large a vessel on the Nile, and frequently predicted she 
would not accomplish the whole voyage. The difficul- 
ties encountered in so doing were, indeed, very serious : 
in spite of the peculiar build and material, the vessel 
grounded and struck fast in the sand several times ; at 
other times a contrary wind, joined to the current, 
which was of course contrary all the way up, obliged 
them to lie at anchor for days ; and the greatest part of 
the ascent of the river was effected by towing, which 
exhausting work seems to have been performed, partly 
by the French sailors, and partly by such Arabs and 
Fellahs as they could hire for the occasion. An exces- 
sive heat rendered this fatigue still more insupport- 
able. Reaumur's thermometer marked from 30° to 
38° in the shade, and ascended to 50°, and even to 
55°, in the sun *\ Several of the sailors were seized 
with dysentery, and the quantity of sand blown about 
by the wind, and the glaring reflection of the burning 
sun, afflicted others with painful ophthalmia. The sand 
must have been particularly distressing : one day the 
wind raised it and rolled it onward in such volume as, 
at intervals, to obscure the light of the sun. After they 
had felicitated themselves on the fact that the plague 
was not in the country, they were struck with alarm on 
the 29th of August, by learning that the cholera morbus 
had broken out most violently at Cairo. On the 11th 
of September the same mysterious disease declared itself 
on the plain of Tbebee, with the natives of which the 
French were obliged to have frequent communications. 
In a very short time fifteen of the sailors, accordi ug to 
our author, the surgeon, caught the contagion, but every 
one recovered under his care and skill. At the same 
time, however, (panic no doubt increasing the disposi- 
tion to disease,) no fewer than forty-eight men were laid 
up with dysentery, which proved fatal to two of them. 

In tht midst of these calamities and dangers, the 
French sailors persevered in preparing the operations 
relative to the object of the expedition. One of the 
first cares of M. Lebas, the engineer, on his arriving 
on the plain of Thebes, was to erect, near to the obelisk* 
and not far from the village of Luxor, proper wooden 
barracks, — sheds and tents to lodge the officers, sailors, 
and workmen, on shore. He also built an oven to bake 
them bread, and magazines in which to secure their 
provisions, and the sails, cables, Ac, of the vessel. 

* As compared with Fahrenheit'*, the thermometer generally 
used io this country, 30* of Reaumur am equal to 98°, 50* te 



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The now desolate site on which the City of the Hun- 
dred Gates, the vast, the populous, and the wealthy 
Thehes, once stood, offered them no resources, nor a 
single comfort of civilized life. But French soldiers 
and sailors lire happily, and, we may say, honourably 
distinguished, by the facility with which they adapt 
themselves to circumstances, and turn their hands to 
whatever can add to their comfort and wellbeing. 
The sailors on this expedition, during 1 their hours of 
repose from more severe labours, carefully prepared 
and dug up pieces of ground for kitchen-gardens. 
They cultivated bread-melons and water-melons, let- 
tuces, and other vegetables. They even planted some 
trees, which thrived very well ; and, in short, they made 
their place of temporary residence a little paradise as 
compared with the wretched huts and neglected fields 
of the oppressed natives. 

[To b« conctndcd io the aext Nnmber.] 



THE PULSE. 



Every one knows that among the numerous inquiries 
and examinations which precede the prescription of a 
careful physician, the state of the pulse is never omitted ; 
yet as it is probable that few of our readers are ac- 
quainted with the reasons for this inquiry, or, what is 
the same thing, with the facts to be learned from it, we 
think it may not be uninteresting if we enumerate some 
of the more prominent ones. 

It is almost unnecessary to premise that by the pulse 
is meant the beat of an artery, and that the one com- 
monly chosen for examination is the radial artery, 
which beats at the wrist. The first point generally 
attended to is the number of the beats; and since in 
this, as in all other medical questions, it is necessary to 
be acquainted w ; th the state of health in order to re- 
cognize any deviation from it, we must mention the 
ordinary frequency of the pulse at different ages. In 
the new-born infant, it is from 130 to 140 in a minute ; 
but decreases in frequency as life advances ; so that, in 
a middle-aged adult in perfect health, it is from 72 to 
75. In the decline of life, it is slower than this, and 
falls to about 60. It is obvious that if we could suppose 
a practitioner ignorant of these plain facts, he would be 
liable to make the" most absurd blunders, and might 
imagine a boy of ten to be labouring under some 
grievous disease because his pulse had not the slow 
sobriety of his grand fathers. A more likely error is, to 
mistake the influence of some temporary cause for the 
effect of a more permanent disease : thus, in a nervous 
patient, the doctor s knock at the door will quicken the 
pulse some 15 or 20 beats fn a minute. This fact did 
not escape the notice of the sagacious Cekus, who says, 
*' The pulse will be altered by the approach of the 
physician and the anxiety of the patient doubting what 
his opinion of the case may be. For this reason, a 
skilful physician will not feel the pulse as soon as he 
comes; but he will first sit down with a cheerful 
countenance, and ask how the patient is, — soothing him, 
if he be timorous, by the kindness of his conversation, 
and afterwards applying his hand to the patient's arm." 
— (De Medica, lib. iii. cap. 7.*) 

Granting, however, that these sources of error are 
avoided, the quickness of the pulse will afford most 
important information. If in a person, for example, 
whose pulse is usually 72, the beats rise in number to 
98, some alarming disease is certainly present ; or, en 
the other hand, should it have permanently sunk to 50, 
it is but too probable that the source of the circulation, 

* The lapse of eighteen centuries hat aot destroyed the utility, 
enrich lee* the Iwauty, of the sight hooks on Medicine bequeathed 
by Colsus to posterity ; they are uniivalled Air peispicitot's elegance 
ead hi se wis g<»e«l sense. Colsus is on* ef the miters of lb* A»- 
I agcj a*4 is wtfthjr of tke Idas* to waie* bo ieioishoi. 



the heart itself, is labouring under incurable disease, or 
that some other of the great springs of life is irreme- 
diably injured. 

Supposing, again, the pulse to be 72, each beat 
ought to occur at au interval of five-sixths of a second ; 
but should any deviation from this rhythm be perceived, 
the pulse is theu said to be irregular. The varieties of 
irregularity are infinite ; but there is one so remarkable 
as to deserve particular mention. It will happen some- 
times that the interval between two beats is so much 
longer than was expected, that it would seem that one 
beat had been omitted ; in this case • the pulse is said 
to be an intermittent one. When the action of the 
heart is irregular, the beat of the pulse is so likewise ; 
but it will occasionally happen that the latter irregu- 
larity takes place without the former one, from some 
morbid cause existing between the heart and the wrist. 
It is hardly necessary to observe, that, in all doubtful 
cases, the physician examines the pulsation of the heart 
as well as that at the wrist, — just as the diligent 
student, discontented with the narrow limits of pro- 
vincial information, repairs to the metropolis to pursue 
his scientific inquiries. 

The strength or feebleness of the pulse, its hardness 
or softness, and innumerable other qualities, might be 
discussed here; but, from the great difficulty attending 
any examination of these points, and the technical 
niceties involved in anything more than a bare mention 
of them, we omit them. There is one point, however, 
which it would be unpardonable to pass over in silence : 
sometimes no pulsation can be felt at the usual part of 
the wrist. This may proceed from so great a languor 
of the circulation that it is imperceptible at the extre- 
mities; or from the radial artery (the one usually felt) 
being ossified ; or from an irregular distribution of the 
arteries of the fore-arm. 



The Arrival of the first Elephant ever seen m England, 
— Matthew Paris relates that, about the year 125 5, an 
elephant was sent over to England as a grand present from 
the king of France to Henry III. ; and state*, that it was 
believed to be the first and only elephant ever seen in Eng- 
land, or even on this side the Alps ; and that consequently 
the people flocked in great numbers to behold so great a 
novelty on its arrival. Among the Close Rolls one of about 
this date is extant, in which the sheriff of Kent is ordered to 
proceed to Dover in person to arrange in what manlier the 
king's elephant might be most conveniently brought over ; 
and to provide a ship, and other things necessary, to convey 
it ; and directing that, if the king's mariners judged it 
practicable, it should be brought to London by water. 
Another order was shortly after issued to the sheriffs of 
London, commanding them to cause to be built, without 
delay, in the Tower of London, a house, forty feet in fength 
and twenty feet in breadth, for the king's elephant; and 
directing thai it shonid be so strongly constructed that, 
whenever there should be need, it might be adapted to, and 
used for, other purposes. 



fttamivated Printing. — In many of the old printed books, 
the initial letters, and occasionally other parts, were printed 
in red. This was done by two workings at press, and was an 
imitation of the earlier fashion of illuminating manuscripts. 
The plasties is still followed in some almanacs, the saints* 
days and heiydays being u red-letter days.'* Some ingenious 
contrivances have fceaa devised for working in various 
ootoars ; and a few yews since, a curtens book was written 
and published on the subject by Mr. Savage. Still more 
lataatly, printing in gold and other metals has been practised. 
This is done by printing with a sort of size, and afterwards 
applying the metal leaf. Some very handsome specimens 
of thsi have been produced by Messrs. Hewlett and Brimmer ; 
but, of course* the pmctss is too costly and too tedious ever 
to eater into competition with common printing, or to be 
used for ether than purposes of luxury. 



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[February 15, 1634 



TILBURY FOBT. 



Thb email village of Tilbury ie situated on the Thames* 
about twenty-seven miles from London, and exactly 
opposite to Gravesend. It appears to have been a 
place of some consequence in the early period of the 
Saxon dominion in England, having been an episcopal 
eeat of Cedda, Bishop of the East Saxons, who, in the 
seventh eentury, propagated the Christian religion in 
this country, and built churches in several places, but 
especially, as Bede reports, " in the city which, in the 
language of the Saxons, is called Ythancestre ; and also 
in that which is named Tillaburgh (the first of which 
places is on the banks of the river Pant, the other on 
the banks of the Thames), where, gathering a flock of 
servants of Christ, he taught them to observe the dis- 
cipline of a regular life, as far as those rude people 
were then capable." Tillaburgh is unquestionably the 
present Tilbury; but Ythancestre, which appears to 
have stood at the mouth of the river Pant, or Black- 
water, is supposed to have been engulphed by the sea. 
The population of West Tilbury was 249 at the last 
census. 

A medicinal spring was discovered here in 1727; con- 
sidered very beneficial in cases cf haemorrhage, scurvy, 
and some other disorders. In a chalk hill near this 
place there are several curious caverns called Danes' 
Jtfoles : they are constructed of stone, narrow at the 
entrance, and very spacious at the depth of thirty feet. 
The neighbourhood still affords some traces of the 
camp formed ty Queen Elizabeth in 1588, when the 
kingdom was threatened by the Spanish Armada. But 
the most interesting object the place affords ie the Fort, 



represented in our engraving. It was originally built 
as a kind of block-house by Henry VIII., but was 
enlarged into a regular fortification by Charles II., in 
the year 1667, after the Dutch fleet had sailed up the 
river, and burned three English men-of-war at Chatham. 
It was planned by Sir Martin Beckman, engineer to 
Charles II., by whom the works at Sheerness were also 
designed. The esplanade is very large, and the bastions 
are the largest of any in England. They are faced with 
brick, and surrounded with a double ditch, or moat, the in- 
nermost being 180 feet broad, and having a good counter- 
scarp. On the land side, there are two small redoubts 
of brick -, but the chief strength on this side consists in 
its being able to lay all the adjacent level under water. 
On the side next the river is a very strong curtain, 
having in the middle a strong gate called the Water 
Gate, and the ditch palisaded. At the place intended 
for the water bastion, which w: s never built, stands a 
high tower, erected by Quern Elizabeth, called the 
Block- house. Various additions have been made to 
this fort since the time of Charles II. ; and it is now 
mounted with several formidable batteries ; and con- 
tains comfortable barracks and other accommodations 
for the garrison, which consists of a fort-major and a 
detachment of invalids. 

The four Roman proconsular ways crossed each other 
in this vicinity ; and there was an ancient ferry over the 
Thames, said to be the place where Claudius passed in 
pursuit of the Britons. The lofty tower of the ancient 
manor-house of Gossalyne, in East Tilbury, was battered 
down by the Dutch in the reign of Charles II. 



[Tutor/ Fwi} 



tOKDOK#-CHAJlLB8 KNIOHT. 81 LUDGATK STtUCST. 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[February 22, 1834. 



THE TERRIER. 



[English and Scotch Terriers.] 



The name of this species of dog seems to be de- 
rived from the peculiar avidity which it exhibits in the 
pursuit of all animals that burrow. There are two 
kinds of terriers, the rough-haired Scotch and the 
smooth English : the former is certainly the purest in 
point of breed, and the latter appears to have been 
produced by a cross from him. 

The Scotch terrier is rather low in stature, rarely 
exceeding more than twelve or fourteen inches in height, 
with a strong, muscular body, and short and stout legs. 
The ears are small and half-pricked ; the head rather 
large in proportion to the size of the body, and the 
muzzle considerably pointed. This species is generally 
of a black or sand colour. The English terrier is a 
handsome, sprightly dog, and generally black on the 
back, sides, upper part of the head, neck, and tail ; the 
belly and throat are of a very bright reddish-brown, 
with a spot of the same colour over each eye. The hair 
is short and somewhat glossy, the tail rather truncated, 
and carried slightly upwards ; the ears are small, some- 
what erect, and turned back at the tips ; the head is 
small in proportion to the size of the body, and the 
snout is moderately elongated. The English terrier 
varies considerably in size and strength, and is to be 
met with from ten to eighteen inches in height. 

Both species are so similar in their habits and powers, 
that they may be described without minute discrimina- 
tion. 

The smell of the terrier is exceedingly acute ; and, 

vo*. in. 



from its expertness in forcing foxes and other game out 
of their coverts, it is an indispensable* attendant on 
every pack of hounds : in this employment, from its 
greater lightness and length of leg, the English terrier 
is better able than the Scotch to keep up with the 
pack. It is of considerable service to man from its 
great hostility to rats, polecats, mice, and other such 
animals. The extraordinary power of the terrier in the 
destruction of rats was strikingly shown in the exhibition 
of the " Dog Billy," who is said to have killed a hun- 
dred in five minutes. Even the badger, though a for- 
midable quadruped, it encounters with great courage, 
and not often without success, though it seldom fails to 
suffer severely in such engagements. To the fox as well 
as the badger it is an implacable enemy, and pursues 
every kind of game secreted in subterraneous retreats 
with more ardour than any other dog. The huntsmen 
are very particular in their selection of terriers for a fox- 
hunting establishment : their size is not so much re- 
garded as their strength and spirit. The black and 
black-tanned, or rough, wire-haired pied, are generally 
preferred. White in a terrier is said to indicate impurity 
of breed ; and those inclining to a reddish colour are 
also considered objectionable by sportsmen. 

The following anecdotes, the first relating to the 
Scotch, and the other to the English, terrier, are taken 
from Brown's * Anecdotes of Dogs/ — " At Dunrobin 
castle, in Sutherlandshire, the seat of the Marchioness 
of Stafford, there was, in May 1820, to be seen a terrier 



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[February 22, 



bitch nursing a brood of ducklings. She had had a 
litter of whelps a few weeks before, which were taken 
from her and drowned. The unfortunate mother was 
quite disconsolate till she perceived the brood of duck- 
lings, which she immediately seized and carried to her 
lair, where she retained them, following them out and 
in with the greatest attention, and nursing Chem after 
her own fashion with the most affectionate anxiety. 
When the ducklings, following their natural instinct, 
went into the water, their foster-mother exhibited the 
utmost alarm ; and as soon as they returned to land, she 
snatched them up in her mouth and ran home with them. 
What adds to the singularity of the circumstance is, 
that the same animal, when deprived of a litter of pup- 
pies the year following, seized two cock chickens, which 
she reared with the like care she bestowed on her own 
family. When the young cocks began to try their 
voices, their foster-mother was as much annoyed as she 
formerly seemed to be by the swimming of tiie duck- 
lings, and never failed to repress their attempts at 
crowing." 

The following anecdote, related by Mr. Blaine, is a 
pleasing proof of canine sagacity, and occurred in the 
parish of Marylebone, London : — " A servant had care- 
lessly left a child, four years old, alone, whose cap 
caught fire from a candle with which t-he was amusing 
herself. A small terrier, observing the situation of the 
child, ran up stairs to the room where I he servant was, 
and barked most vehemently, nor would he cease till 
she came down, by which assistance was obtained. Had 
it not been for the intelligence of the dog, the poor 
child, instead of being only slightly scorched, would 
most probably have lost its life ; for the accident hap- 
pened in the kitchen, and the domestic left in charge 
of it had gone to the very top of the house, out of the 
reach even of the cries of the infant." 



THE OBELISK OF LUXOR. 

[Concladfd from No. 120.] 

If* the first volume of the ' British Museum,' which 
contains some brief notices on Egyptian antiquities, 
the reader will find a description of obelisks generally, 
together with their history, and a particular account of 
those of Luxor. The latter account, and a view of the 
said obelisks, and part of the magnificent temple of 
Luxor, before which they stood, have also been given 
in No. 14 of the * Penny Magazine.' Referring our 
readers, then, to that description and that engraving, 
we need only add on the present occasion that it was the 
smaller of the two obelisks the French had to remove. 
But this smaller column of hard, heavy granite was 
72 French feet high, and was calculated to weigh 
upwards of 240 tons*. It stood, moreover, at the dis- 
tance of about 1 20'J feet from the Nile, and the inter- 
vening space presented many difficulties. 

M. Lebas, the engineer, commenced by making an 
inclined plane, extending from the base of the obelisk 
to the edg;e of the river. This work occupied nearly 
all tht French sailors and about 700 Arabs during three 
months, for they were obliged to cut through two hills 
of ancient remains and rubbish, to demolish half of the 
poor villages which lay in their way, and to beat, equa- 
lize,- and render firm, the uneven, loose, and crumbling 
soil. This done, the engineer proceeded to make the 
ship ready for the reception of the obelisk. The vessel 
had been left aground by the periodical fall of the 
waters of the Nile, and matters had been so managed 
that she lay imbedded in the sand, with her figure-head 
pointing directly towards the temple and the granite 
column. The engineer, taking care not to touch the 
keel, sawed off a transverse and complete section of the 

* According to M. Angeliu, tho other obelisk is threa French 
feet higher. 



front of the ship ; — in short, he cut away her bows, 
which wjre raised, and kept suspended above the place 
they properly occupied by means of pulleys and some 
strong spars, which crossed each other above the vessel. 

The ship, thus opened, presented in front a large 
mouth to receive its cargo, which was to reach the very 
lip of that mouth or opening, by sliding down the 
inclined plane. When this section of the ship was 
effected, they took care that she should lie equally on 
her keel ; and where the sand or mud was weak, or 
had fallen away from the vessel, they supplied proper 
supports and props to prevent the great weight of the 
column from breaking her back. The preparations for 
bringing the obelisk safely down to the ground lasted 
from the 11th of July to the 31st of October, when it 
was laid horizontally on its side. 

The rose-coloured granite of Syene (the material of 
these remarkable works of ancient art), though exceed- 
ingly hard, is rather brittle. By coming in contact 
with other substances, and by being impelled along the 
inclined plane, the beautiful hieroglyphics sculptured 
on its surface might have been defaced, and the obelisk 
might have suffered other injuries. To prevent these, 
M. Lebas encased it, from its summit to its base, in 
strong thick wooden sheathings, which were well secured 
to the column by means of hoops. The western face 
of this covering, which was that upon which the obelisk 
was to slide down the inclined plane, was rendered 
smooth, and was well rubbed with grease to make it 
run the easier. 

The mechanical contrivance to lower the column, 
which was by far the most critical part of these opera- 
tions, is described as having been very simple. A 
cable of immense strength was attached to a strong 
anchor deeply sunk in the earth, and well secured at 
some distance from the monument. This cable was 
carried forward and made fast to the top of the obelisk, 
and then descending in an acute angle in the rear of 
the obelisk, the cable was retained in an opposite direc- 
tion to the anchor by means of an enormous beam of 
wood, and by a series of pulleys and capstans. The 
column had been perfectly cleared from the sand and 
earth round its base, and walls of a certain height 
erected to keep it in the proper line of descent. Other 
works at its base prevented the column from sliding 
backwards in its descent, and a strong bed made of 
oak, and' immediately connected with the inclined plane, 
was ready to receive it, and pass it to the plane when 
it reached a certain low angle of declination. 

To move so lofty and narrow an object from its centre 
of gravity was no difficult task, — but then came the 
moment of int#nse anxie'ty ! The whole of the enormous 
weight bore upon the cable, the cordage, and ma- 
chinery, which quivered and cracked in all their parts. 
Their tenacity, however, was equal to the strain, and so 
ingeniously were the mechanical powers applied, that 
eight men in the rear of the descending column were 
sufficient to accelerate or retard its descent. For two 
minutes the obelisk was suspended at an angle of 80°, 
— but, finally, it sank majestically and in perfect safety 
to the bed of the inclined plane. 

On the following day the much less difficult task of 
getting the obelisk on board the ship was performed. 
It only occupied an hour and a half to drag the column 
down the inclined plane, and (through the open mouth 
in front) into the hold of the vessel. The section of 
the suspended bows was then lowered to the proper 
place, and readjusted and secured as firmly as ever by 
the carpenters and other workmen. So nicely was 
this important part of the ship sliced off, and then put 
to again, that the mutilation was scarcely perceptible. 

The obelisk, as we have seen, was embarked on the 
1st of November, 1831, but it was not until the ISth 
of Auguit, 1S32, that the annual rise of the Nile 



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afforded sufficient water to float their long-stranded 
ship. At last, however, to their infinite joy, they were 
ordered to prepare everything for the voyage home- 
wards. As soon as this was done, sixty Arabs were 
engaged to assist in getting them down the river (a 
distance of IbO leagues), and the Louxor set sail. 

After thirty-six days of painful navigation, but with- 
out meeting with any serious accident, they reached 
Roselta ; and tiiere they were obliged to stop, because 
the sand-bank oif that mouth of the Nile had accumu- 
lated to such a degree, that, with its present cargo, the 
vessel could not clear it. Fortunately, however, on 
the 30 th of December, a violent hurricane dissipated 
part of this sand-bank; and, on the 1st of January s 
1S33, at ten o'clock in the morning, the Louxor shot 
safely out of the Nile, and at nine o'clock on the fol- 
lowing morning came to a secure anchorage in the old 
harbour of Alexandria. 

Here they awaited the return of the fine season 
for navigating the Mediterranean ; and the Sphynx 
(a French man-of-war) taking the Louxor in tow, 
they sailed from Alexandria on the Jst of April. On 
the 2nd, a storm commenced, which kept the Louxor 
in imminent danger for two whole days. On the 6th, 
this storm abated; but the wind continued contrary, 
and soon announced a fresh tempest. They had just 
time to run for shelter into the bay of Marmara when 
the storm became more furious than ever. 

On the 13th of April they again weighed anchor, and 
shaped their course for Malta ; but a violent contrary 
wi'id drove them back as far as the Greek island of 
M ilo, where they were detained two days. Sailing, 
however, on the 17th, they reached Navarino on the 
ltttji, and the port of Corfu, where, they say, they were 
kindly received by Lord Nugent and the British, on 
the 23d of April. Between Corfu and Cape Sparti- 
vento, heavy seas and high winds caused the Louxor 
to labour and strain exceedingly. As soon, however, 
as they reached the coast of Italy, the sea became calm, 
and a light breeze carried them forward, at the rate of 
four knots an hour, to Toulon; where they anchored 
during the evening of the 11th of May. 

They had now reached the port whence they had de- 
parted, but their voyage was not yet finished. There 
is no carriage by water, or by any other commodious 
means, for so heavy and cumbrous a mass as an Egyp- 
tian obelisk, from Toulon to Paris (a distance of above 
450 miles). To meet this difficulty they must descend 
the rest of the Mediterranean, pass nearly the whole of 
the southern coast of France, and all the south of 
Spain — sail through the Straits of Gibraltar, and tra- 
verse part of the Atlantic, as far as the mouth of the 
Seine, which river affords a communication between 
the French capital and the ocean. 

Accordingly, on the 22d of June, they sailed from 
Toulon, the Louxor being again taken in tow by the 
Sphynx man-of-war ; and, after experiencing some 
stormy weather, finally reached Cherbourg on the 5th 
of August, 1S33. The whole distance performed in 
this voyage was upwards of fourteen hundred leagues. 

As the royal family of France was expected at Cher- 
bourg by the 3 1st of August, the authorities detained 
the Louxor there. On the 2d of September, King 
Louis Philippe paid a visit to the vessel, and warmly 
expressed his satisfaction to the officers and crew. He 
was the first to inform M. Verninac, the commander, 
that he was promoted to the rank of captain of a sloop- 
of-war. On the following day, the king distributed 
decorations of the legion of honour to the oilicers, and 
entertained them at dinner. 

The Louxor, again towed by the Sphynx, left Cher- 
bourg on the 12th of September, and safely reached 
Havre de Grace, at the mouth of the Seine. Here 
her old companion, the Sphynx, which drew too much 



water to be able to ascend the river, left her, and she 
was taken in tow by the Heva steam-boat. To con- 
clude with the words of our author : "At six o'clock 
(on the 13th) our vessel left the sea for ever, and 
entered the Seine. By noon we had cleared all the 
banks and impediments of the lower part of the river ; 
and, on the 14th of September, at noon, we arrived at 
Rouen, where the Louxor was made fast before the 
quay d'Harcourt. Here we must remain until the 
autumnal rains raise the waters of the Seine, and permit 
us to transport to Pa/is this pyramid, — the object of 
our expedition." This event has since happened, and 
the recent French papers announced that the Louxor 
would be shortly received into a cradle constructed for 
its reception. 

On some future occasion we will give an account of 
the landing and erecting the Egyptian column at Paris. 



BEAUVA1S. 

Beauvais is a city of France, the capital of the depart- 
ment of the Oise, situated upon the Therain, in a valley 
surrounded by woody hills. The site of Beauvais was 
occupied, in very remote times, by a city, which is men- 
tioned in the l Commentaries of Cajsar' by the name of 
Caesaro-magus, and which it afterwards dropped for 
that of Bellovacum, derived from a Belgian people, the 
bellovaci, by whom it was inhabited. It was ravaged 
by the Normans in the year 850, and at other periods ; 
and Jew cities have experienced more calamities and 
frequent fires than Beauvais. The town still exults in 
the glory of having sustained two very formidable sieges 
without being taken. The first ofthe.^e was in the year 
1443, when the English were repulsed by the devoted 
heroism of Jean Siguiere ; the tecond was in 1472, when 
Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, unsuccessfully 
besieged it with 80,000 men. On this occasion, the 
females of Beauvais, headed by Jane Hachettc, joined 
the garrison and fought with uncommon intrepidity. 
This heroine herself, on one occasion, seized the flag 
which the enemy were about to plant on the walls, and 
threw from the rampart the soldier by whom it was 
carried. The assailants were obliged to withdraw. 
Until the revolution, this event was annually comme- 
morated, on the 10th of July, by a procession, in which 
the women marched first. 

The cathedral church of Beauvais, the south front of 
which is represented in our engraving, is the principal 
architectural ornament of the town. The building was 
commenced in the year 1391. It is particularly noied 
for its choir, which is regarded as a master-piece of Gothic 
architecture, being as much admired for its height and 
breadth as for the lightness of the work and the fine 
arrangement of the vault and its outworks. It has tei 
pillars on each side of its length, with chapels all 
around. The pavement of the sanctuary, which is \ en- 
large, is all of marble. This magnificent building 
seems never to have been finished. The nave is in- 
complete, and there are ueither towers nor apparent 
belfries. The church possesses, nevertheless, some 
great bells, which are placed in a separate building, 
about fifteen paces from the front entrance. Near the 
cathedral there are four small collegiate churches whi:h 
are distinguished as " the four daughters of St. Peter," 
to which saint the cathedral is dedicated. Our wood- 
cut represents the South Front of the Cathedral. It 
can only be viewed from a very narrow street ; but its 
magnificent dimensions, and its elaborate ornaments 
afford a remarkable specimen of the ecclesiastical 
architecture of France. 

Besides the cathedral, there are few buildings at 
Beauvais that claim particular notice. The Town-hall 
«s a fine edifice,, and contains a picture representing the 
heroic action of Jane Hachette. There is one large 

K 2 



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hospital, a communal college, a public library contain- 
ing 6000 volumes, a cabinet of natural history, and a 
hall for exhibitions. The place possesses some consi- 
derable manufactures, principally of rich tapestries, 
serges, and woollen cloth, which give it a respectable 
trade. The population is 12,800. 



The situation of Beauvais is not unpleasant, bat the 
town, on the whole, does not present an agreeable 
aspect. The houses are built chiefly of wood, a cir- 
cumstance which accounts for the frequent fires to 
which we alluded. The streets are sufficiently wide, 
and the ramparts afford pleasant and shady promenades. 



Loom ftraft of tfeesttofol of Bmnfe] 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
8T0NEHENGB. 



(Remains of 
Stonehbnge is the most remarkable ancient monument 
now remaining in this island ; nor indeed is there known 
anywhere to exist so stupendous an erection of the same 
character. Even in its present half-ruined state, the 
venerable pile retains a majesty that strikes, at the first 
glance, both the most refined and the rudest eye : and 
the admiration of the beholder grows and expands as a 
more distinct conception of the original plan of the 
structure gradually unfolds itself from amidst the ir- 
regular and confused mixture of the standing and the 
fallen portions which for a short time perplexes the 
contemplation. It is then felt to be the produce, not 
only of great power and skill, but of a grand idea. 

The situation is a highly commanding one. Stone- 
henge stands at a short distance north-west from the 
town of Amesbury, on the brow of one of those broad 
and gentle elevations which in many places slightly un- 
dulate the vast level of Salisbury Plain. The turnpike- 
road from Amesbury to Shrewton, running in a north- 
west direction, passes close by it. It rises on the tra- 
veller's left as he proceeds from Amesbury, and is ap- 
proached by a short avenue, marked by the traces of a 
ditch on each side. The direction of this avenue is 
from north-east to south-west, and it has been crossed 
obliquely by the turnpike-road. It appears to have 
formed the only entrance to the enclosure in which the 
building stands, which is formed by a circular ditch, 
three hundred and sixty-nine yajdv in circumference, 
and having a slight rampart oh the inner side. It has 
been supposed that, besides this, there were two other 
entrances : but both Dr. Stukeley and Sir Richard Colt 
Hoare, whose descriptions of Stonehenge are the fullest 
and most careful that have been published, and between 
whom there is a perfect agreement in all material points, 
are decidedly of opinion that these breaks in the ditch 
have been made in modern times, probably to allow the 
passage of the carts, by which so many of the stones 
haw been carried away« 



Stouehenge.] 

The building stands in the centre of this circular 
area. An outer circle of enormous upright blocks, 
having others placed upon them, as the lintel of a door 
is placed upon the side-posts, so as to form a kind of 
architrave, has enclosed a space of a hundred feet in 
diameter. The upright stones in this circle had been 
originally thirty in number, but only seventeen of them 
are now standing. The portion of the circle facing the 
north-east is still tolerably entire ; and the doorway at 
the termination of the avenue may be said to be in per- 
fect preservation. It consists of two upright stones, 
each thirteen feet in height, and between six and seven 
in breadth, with a third block placed over them, of 
about twelve feet in length, and two feet eight inches in 
depth. The space between the two posts is five feet, 
which is rather a wider interval than occurs between 
any two of the other pillars. Throughout the circle the 
broad side of the stone is placed in the line of the cir- 
cumference, so that there must have been more of wall 
than of open space in the proportion of about six and a 
half to five. The imposts are fixed upon the uprights 
throughout by the contrivance called a tenon and mor- 
tise ; the ends of the uprights being hewn into tenons 
or projections, and corresponding hollows being ex- 
cavated in the imposts. They are oval or egg-shaped. 
Of course there are two tenons on each upright, and two 
mortises in each of the imposts, which are of the same 
number with the uprights. The principal workmanship 
must have been bestowed upon these fittings : for although 
the marks of the hewer's tool are visible upon the other * 
parts of the stones, their surface has been left, upon the 
whole, rude and irregular. They are made to taper a 
little towards the top ; but even in this respect they are 
not uniform. 

Within this great circle is another, formed by stones 
not only much .smaller, but also much ruder in their 
outline. Of these there had originally been forty, but 
only twenty of them can now be traced. This circle 



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[February 22, 



has never had any imposts • it is about eighty-four feet 
in diameter, and, consequently, the interval between it 
and the outer circle is eight feet. 

The next enclosure has been formed of only ten 
stones, but they are of very majestic height, exceeding 
even that of those in the outer circle. They have been 
disposed in five pairs, and in the form of a half oval, 
or rather of a horseshoe; the upper part facing the 
north-east, or the'' great door. The two pairs at the 
terminations of the curve, which are distant from each 
other about forty feet, are each sixteen feet three 
inches high ; but the height of the next two pairs is 
seventeen feet two inches; and that of the last pair, 
the station of which had been directly facing the open- 
ing, was twenty-one feet and a half. A striking effect 
must have been produced by this ascending elevation. 
A variety and a lightness must have also been given to 
the structure by the arrangement of the stones here ; 
not at equal distances, as in the two exterior rows, but 
in pairs, the interval between each two pairs being 
much greater than that between the two stones compos- 
ing each pair. The uprights of this row have imposts 
over them, as in the outer circle. One of these imposts 
is sixteen feet three inches long. Of course the im- 
posts here, not forming a continuous architrave, are 
only five in number. Of the five pairs, or rather tri- 
lithom (that is, combinations of three stones), although 
some of the shafts have been injured and mutilated, all 
are still in their places, except the fifth, or that which 
faced the entrance. This trilithon fell down on the 3rd 
of January, 1797, and the stones now encumber a flat 
stone, of about fifteen feet in length, which lay at their 
base. 

Lastly, there appears to have been a fourth en- 
closure, formed originally, as Stukeley thinks, by nine- 
teen stones, but only eleven now remain, entire or in 
fragments. These seem also to have been arranged 
in the shape of a half oval, with the open part, as in 
the case of the other, to the north-east. Although 
greatly inferior in height to those last described, they 
are still taller than those of the second circle. The 
most perfect, according to Sir R. C. Hoare, is seven 
and a half feet high, and twenty-three inches wide at 
the base, and twelve at the top. Like the second circle, 
this row has never had any imposts. 

Such is Stonehenge, as it still subsists ; and in so far 
as the original design of the fabric can be traced from 
the portions of it which the waste of time has left, the ap- 
propriateness of the name, Stonehenge, which is Saxon, 
and signifies " the Hanging Stones," will be obvious 
enough from the account that has been given. But 
little doubt can be entertained that it is not a Saxon 
building. It is unquestionably the work of an age long 
preceding that in which the Saxons first obtained a 
footing in this island. Inigo Jones, in a posthumous 
work, has actually maintained the theory that it is a 
Roman erection— a temple of the god Coelus, he 
conceives. A more absurd notion never was taken up. 
It would be much more rational to say that it was a 
work of nature; — a piece of architecture which had 
grown up where it stands, like the Giant's Causeway, 
or the Cave at Staff a. Stonehenge certainly resembles 
these structures quite as much as it does any thing the 
Romans have left us. The old popular tradition, re- 
corded by Giraldus Cambrensis and other chroniclers, 
was, that the stones had been brought to the place 
where they now are, and elevated into the air as we see 
them, by the great magician Merlin, from the Curragh 
of Kildare in Ireland. It is not impossible that the 
design may have been taken from a similar building 
on that great plain, where Giraldus Cambrensis says, 
that an erection like Stonehenge was actually to be seen 
in his day. He calls Stonehenge, Chorea Gigantium, 
the Giants' Dance. Among modern speculators, some, 



also, have attributed it to the Danes; but, since the 
publication of Stukeley 's book (1740), opinion has 
almost universally been made up in favour of his theorv 
that it is a Druidical temple of the ancient Britons. 
Of late, certain other hypotheses have been engrafted 
upon this general idea .—as, for instance, that it had 
an astronomical as well as a religious aim; bur 
these are to be considered as rather developments 
than refutations of Stukeley's view. Astronomy was 
the soul of the Druidical religion, and may very pos- 
sibly have influenced the form of the temples as well 
as the worship. But there is little chance that we 
shall be able, in the present day, to recover any correct 
knowledge of the principles of this astronomical archi- 
tecture. 

One difficulty in the subject of Stonehenge has given 
rise to much discussion ; — From whence were the stones 
brought? According to Sir R. C. Hoare, in his mag 
nificent work entitled the * Ancient History of South 
Wiltshire,' (fol. Lon. 1812) the stones forming the 
outer circle and the fine trilithons of the grand oval 
are of the same kind with those which are found in 
different parts of the surface of the Wiltshire Downs, 
and are there called Sarsen Stones, by which are meant 
stones taken from the native quarry in their rude state. 
They are a fine-grained species of silicious sandstone. 
Those forming the smaller circle, and the smaller oval 
again, are quite different. Some are an aggregate of 
quartz, feldspar, chlorite, and hornblende ; one is 
a silicious schist ; others are hornstone, intermixed with 
small specks of feldspar and pyrites. What is called 
the altar, being the stone now covered by the central 
trilithon of the grand oval, is a micaceous fine-grained 
sandstone. From these circumstances, Mr. Cunnington 
first very ingeniously started the conjecture that the 
original temple had probably consisted only of the 
great circle and the great oval, and that the two other 
rows were subsequent additions. In a late publication, 
entitled 'Hermes Britannicus,' (1828,) the Rev. W. 
L. Bowles has taken up this idea, but has given it a 
new form, by supposing the lower stones to have formed 
the original temple, and the taller to have been after- 
wards added. He has connected this view with some 
very curious speculations as to the religion of the 
ancient inhabitants of Britain ; for which, however, we 
must refer the reader to his work. 

Our wood-cut represents Stonehenge as seen from 
the south. 



PROFESSIONS AND TRADES OF THE 
METROPOLIS. 

The table given in No. 118 of the * Penny Magazine' 
distinguished the employments in which about 45,400 
establishments are engaged. Those were employments 
connected with the larger objects of production and 
the more important professions. The present list adds 
7000 to this amount; and there are about 2300 en- 
gaged in 218 employments which our limits have not 
allowed us to include in either list. Thus a total is 
obtained of about 54,700 establishments, considered 
" respectable" by the compilers of the lists we have 
employed. 

Since the preening list went to press, we have been 
informed that there **?e not less than 800 "artists" 
practising in the metropolis ; b"t the discrepancy may 
be accounted for by the fact, that a laige proportion of 
artists prefer the light and air of the suburbs to the 
close streets. Generally, we would be understood as 
claiming no more for the tables than that they exhibit 
approximations, and afford materials for comparison. 

Anatomical Mechani'sts :j 

Anchorsmiths and Chain-cable manufacturers 21 

Animal Preservers 4 

Archery Warehouses ....... 1 1 



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ft 



Army Clothiers (20), and (16) Cap and Ac* 
coutrement Makers • 

Artificial Eye (3), aud Limb Makers . • . 

Artists in Fireworks . . . . • • • 

Aurists 

Ball and Rout Furnishers 

Basket Makers ......... 

Bellows Makers 

Birmingham and Sheffield Warehouses . . 

Blacking Manufacturers ...... 

Black-lead Pencil Manufacturers .... 

Blind (window) Makers 

Brace and Belt Makers 

Brass and Copper Manufacturers .... 

Breeches Makers 

Button Manufacturers and Warehouses . 

Calico-Glazers (6), and Calico and Furniture 
Printers • 

Cap Makers, (fur, cloth, and leather) . . . 

Card Makers 

Carmen 

Carpet and Rug Manufacturers and Ware- 
houses 

Chair and Sofa Manufacturers .... 

Chasers 

Child-bed Linen Warehouses .... 

Clothiers and Clothes Salesmen .... 

Colour Manufacturers and Dealers (exclusive 
of those who are Oilmen also) .... 

Comb Makers 

Composition Ornament Manufacturers 

Cork Manufacturers 

Cuppers 

Curriers, Leather Cutters, &c 

Dressing Case and Desk Makers .... 

Drysalters 

Kgg Merchants • . • . • . * . • 

Engine Makers, (Fire 5, Steam 2, Hydraulic 1) 

Farriers 

Feather Manufacturers (11 Bed) . • • . 

Filter Manufacturers 

Fishing Rod and Tackle Manufacturers • 

Flatting Mills 

Floor Cloth Manufacturers . . 
French Horn and Trumpet Manufacturers 
Fringe, Bedlace, Trimming, &c, Manufacturers 

Furriers 

Gilders (Water and Book-edge) .... 
Ginger Beer (13), Soda and* Mineral Water 

Manufacturers (20) 

Glass Manufacturers, Warehouses, and Cutters 

Globe Makers 

Glovers 

Gold Cutters, Gold and Silver Beaters, Re- 
finers, &c. ...» 

Granary Keepers ........ 

Gunpowder Makers 

Hair Manufacturers • 

Ham and Tongue Dealers 

Harness Makers . • 

Harp Makers . 

Herbalists • • 

Importers (of Beads 5, Carpets 1, Cigars 15, 
Cocoa-nuts 2, Foreign Clocks and Watches 
4, Foreign Fancy Goods 27, Foreign Silk 
Goods 15, Geneva Watch Tools and Ma- 
terials 2, Glass Shades 1, Leeches 5, Mi- 
neral Waters 1, Shawls 1, Tobacco-pipes 
and Snuff-boxes 2, Toys 7, Wines 23) 
Lamp Manufactories and Warehouses 

Lapidaries 

Last, Boot-tree, and Patten Makers . . • 

Lead Manufacturers 

Lightennen 

Locksmiths and Bell-hangers ...» 
Looking-glass and Picture Frame Makers 

Mangle and Press Makers 

Map and Chart Publishers and Sellers 
Mariue Stores, and Rag and Phial Dealers • 
Mast, Oar and Block Makers . . . . . 

Medallists 

Millers ........... 

Mineralogists 

Modellers ...» 

Needle and Pin Makers 

Oculisfs ........... 

Outfitting and Ready-made. Linen Ware- 
houses .......... 

Paper Makers 

Paper Marblers and Fancy Paper Makers ♦ 
Pajiors ,<«••,«,<«« 



36 

«J 

9 

4 

3 

54 

10 

44 

25 

18 

98. 

16 

157 

33 

33 

39 
16 
15 
70 

109 
89 
30 
63 

110 

79 
39 
18 
52 
38 
459 
64 
58 
25 

8 
95 
84 

7 
24 

7 
33 
10 
92 
151 
30 

33 

174 

4 

76 

117 

9 

9 
57 
66 
46 
12 
21 



III 
78 
30 
59 
25 
99 
83 
32 
14 
19 
73 
45 

3 
17 

2 
11 
32 

3 

03 

9 

*1 

12 



Percussion Cap Manufacturers . » < * % 
Perfumers . . 84 



Pewterers 
Plaster of Paris Manufacturers 
Plate (British) Manufacturers 
Potato Dealers . . . . . 

Potters 

Printing Press Makers . . 
Print-sellers and Publishers 



55 

6 

3 

181 

14 
5 

62 
Pump Makers ......... 11 

' m ' "" ' -" * 23 

70 

84 

14 

5 



Roman Cement Manufacturers 

Rope, Line and Twine Manufacturers • • • 

Sail and Sail Cloth Makers and Warehouses 

Saw Mills 

Scagliola Manufacturers »\ 

Scale Makers 40 

Ship Breakers 9, Carvers 6, Chandlers 40, 
Hearth and Tank Makers 4, Joiners 8, 

Owners 30, Smiths 1 1 108 

Short-hand Writers 15 

Slop-sellers 83 

Soap Manufacturers 40 

Spectacle Makers 16 

Statuaries and Masons 161 

Steam-engine Boiler Manufacturers ... 8 

Sugar Refiners 68 

Surgeons' Instrument Makers .... 54 

Tanners 50 

Timber and Deal Yards 21 

Hn-plate Workers 204 

Tool Makers and Warehouses 100 

Toymen 134 

Tripemen 37 

Trunk Makers 93 

Truss Makers 33 

Turners 170 

Umbrella and Parasol Makers .... 109 

Varnish Manufacturers 31 

Veterinary Surgeons 55 

Violin and Violiucello Makers ..... 15 

Warehouses (16 French) 137 

Wharfingers 90 

Wheelwrights 155 

Whip Makers 33 

"Wig Makers 9 

Wire Drawers, Workers, &c 79 

Wool Staplers 21 

Worsted Manufacturers 20 

Zinc Workers 7 



AUSCULTATION*. 

From the earliest ages physicians have known that 
disease in the cavity of the chest might occasionally be 
detected by the ear ; but it was not till about seventy 
years ago that any express rules were laid down upon 
this subject. The merit of being the first methodical 
auscultator is due to Dr. Avenbnlgger, a physician of 
Vienna, who published a short treatise on this subject 
in the year 1761. It is written in Latin, and is en- 
titled, ' A New Discover)- of the Art of Detecting 
Diseases in the Interior of the Chest by Percussion.' 
When the chest of the patient is struck by the fingers 
of the physician, if it is healthy, it gives a sound, says 
Dr. Avenbrugger, like that of a drum covered with 
cloth ; whereas, if it is diseased, the sound produced is 
as if solid flesh had been struck. 

In performing this examination, the chest of the 
patient must be covered with his shirt, of else the fin- 
gers of the physician with a glove, which must not be 
made of glossy leather ; for if the bare chest is struck 
with the bare hand, the concussion of smooth surfaces 
produces an external sound which obscures the internal 
one. The following eight general rules are clear, cor- 
rect, and Well-expressed: — 

1. The duller the sound is over the chest, and the 
nearer it approaches the sound of solid flesh, the 
greater is the disease. 

2. The larger the space over which thfe dulness 
extends, the greater is the disease. 

* This word signifies listening ; but, in mediciot, mstiit the *% 
•f <tirfui«uishi»g distaste by tfat n— of b«ur»fr 



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S. It Is worse for the left side to be affected than the 
light 

4. It is less dangerous that the front and upper part 
of the chest (viz., from the collar-bone to the fourth 
rib) should be destitute of sound than the lower part 

5. It is more dangerous that the sound be absent in 
the posterior part of the thorax than in the front and 
upper part 

[This rule is evidently the same as the last, in diffe- 
rent words.] 

6. If one side of the chest is entirely destitute of 
sound, it is a fatal sign. 

7. If the sternum (viz., the front and central part 
of the chest) is without sound, it is a fatal sign. 

8. If the place which the heart occupies gives the 
sound of solid flesh over a great space, it is a fatal sign. 

The reason of the last rule is this : — the heart, from 
Its solidity, produoes a loss of resonance over the space 
which it occupies ; and, therefore, a great extension of 
this dulness shows a great enlargement of the heart, — 
an incurable disease. 

When there is fluid in the chest there will be a loss 
of resonance ; just as there is when the lungs, having 
lost their natural spongy texture, have become solid, — 
a disease which Avenbrugger calls schirrus of the lungs ; 
but which is now termed hepatization, from hepar, the 
Greek word for liver. Percussion, however, will almost 
always succeed in determining whether the loss of 
sound is produced by the presence of a fluid or by 
hepatization ; for, in the former case, the patient, by 
altering his attitude, will change the position of the 
fluid, and thus transfer the dulness of sound from one 
spot to another ; but this ingenious method of discri- 
minating the nature of the disease will, of course, fail 
in those rare cases in which on&side of the chest is 
entirely filled with fluid. J 

Dr. Avenbrugger' s little manual is not confined 
solely to the signs afforded by percussion ; in many 
instances he gives a succinct but masterly outline of 
the general symptoms by which various diseases of the 
chest may be recognized. In offering his work, the 
fruit of seven years' observation, to physicians, he 
remarks, that, in treating diseases of the chest, the 
sound obtained by percussion is inferior in importance 
only to the pulse and respiration. Avenbrugger's 
work has never been translated into English ; but there 
is a French version of it by Corvisart, in which the 
brief axioms of the German physician are illustrated, 
and almost overwhelmed, by a most copious com- 
mentary. This translation, however, is a valuable 
work, and an additional step in the art of auscultation. 
With this exception, but little advance seems to have 
been made from Avenbrugger to Laennec, the dis- 
tinguished inventor of the stethoscope. This is a tube, 
usually made of wood, one end of which is applied to 
the chest of the patient, and the other to the ear of the 
physician. By this contrivance, the sound of the pa- 
tient's respiration, as well as voice, is transmitted in 
the most distinct manner, and the minutest variations 
from the healthy standard can be distinguished by a 
practised ear. In children, for instance, the sound pro- 
duced by respiration is louder and more acute than in 
adults ; but this acute breathing often occurs in grown- 
up persons, when, one lung being diseased, the other 
is forced to do work for both. It is known among ste- 
ihoscopists by the name of puerile respiration. Or, let 
us suppose a patient in an advanced stage of consump- 
tion, in whose lungs cavities have been formed by the 
luppuration of tubercles ; if the stethoscope be applied 
to the chest of such a patient when he is speaking, his 
▼oice will be heard echoing from the cavities in his 
lungs: this morbid resonance is called pectoriloquy. 
Such are a few of the more intereresting points depend- 
lag on auscultation, a subject on which large volumes 



not dnly might be, but have been, written. In com- 
paring the methods of Avenbrugger and Laennec, we 
must acknowledge that, if percussion is more simple, 
the stethoscope affords more information; but then 
this advantage is perhaps counterbalanced by the ex- 
treme difficulty of its application ; a difficulty so great 
as not always to be surmounted by years of study. It 
is for this cause that we have touched but slightly on 
the use of the stethoscope, or chest-viewer, as we 
thought it needless to perplex general readers with 
refined distinctions which harass the scientific, and even 
left Laennec himself sometimes at fault. 

We touch upon subjects of this nature principally 
to 6how by what slow steps the knowledge of diseases 
has advanced, — what slight symptoms indicate healthy 
or deranged functions, — how delicate are the tests 
which they present, even to the most practised phy- 
sician, — and how contemptible, therefore, are those 
pretensions which would make the medical science 
consist in a few empirical rules, applied with little 
observation, and less philosophy. 



Persecution of the Jews. — Among the details of wrong 
and outrage, by which the study of history is frequently 
rendered painful, few are more revolting than the massacre* 
and persecutions of the Jews by the Anglo-Norman kings. 
Besides the more general and shocking transactions of this 
character which historians record, many old documents 
exhibit evidences of local persecution which are as curious 
as they are revolting. In illustration may be queted the 
order issued, in 1255, by Henry III. to the sheriff of Norfolk 
and Suffolk, who is commanded " to cause proclamation to 
be made in the city of Norwich, and in all the good towns 
of those counties, that no Christian woman shall henceforth 
serve the Jews, to nurse their young children, or in any 
other office." Thirty-five years after, all the Jews in Eng- 
land, to the number of 15,000, were expelled the country, 
and all their real estates confiscated, by a resolution ex- 
torted from the parliament by the clamours of the people. 



Frugal Fare of the Swedish Peasants, and their Affection 
for their Horses. — *« While changing horses, we were not a 
little entertained at the curious group formed by the pea- 
sants and their steeds breakfasting together : both cordially 
partaking of a large, hard, rye-cake. This is their constant 
food on the road ; and, indeed, throughout Sweden it forms 
the chief, and frequently the only, subsistence of the pea- 
santry. Before setting out on a journey, a few of these 
cakes are strung together, which serve for the support of 
themselves and their horses. As the latter may sometimes 
belong to three or even four proprietors, it is highly amusing, 
on the road, to observe the frequent altercations between 
them, each endeavouring to spare his own horse; and, 
while running by the side of your carriage, using his utmost 
endeavours to persuade the driver that it is an animal of 
such qualities as not to have the least occasion for the whip ; 
at the same time, perhaps, giving him a hint, that, from 
what he knows of his neighbour's beast, the lash would be 
well applied there. The curious scenes that in consequence 
arise form not the least entertaining part of the journey. 
Their affection for their horses is so great, that I have 
actually seen them shed tears when they have been driven 
beyond their strength. Indeed, the expedition with which 
these little animals proceed is surprising when we consider 
the smallness of their size, which hardly exceeds that of a 
pony. Seven or eight miles within the hour are accom- 
plished by them With ease; and the roads throughout 



Sweden being universally good, they frequently do not 
relax from a ^dlop unul they have reached the post-house.'* 
— Sir Arthur de Capell Brookes Travels in Sweden, $e* 



V Tht Oflec of tko Sodetj for tht Diffusion of Uttfal KnowUdgo it aft . 
69, IincoloU Iaa Fields. 



l&KPONa-CHABIKl KNIGHT, IS, LUDOATE aTRXIT. 



Mat* sy ▼ttaUMCfcrtnt, 0ike Sfetft, LaaMa, 



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122.] 



January 31, to February 28, 1834. 



CANTERBURY. 



We have already (see No. 106) given a general de- 
scription of Canterbury ; and the present Supplement 
will be devoted to a review of some of the most re- 
markable among the particular objects of interest in the 
place. The buildings of note — still standing or now in 
ruins — in the city and its neighbourhood, are almost all 
connected with its ecclesiastical establishments. We 
shall begin with the most distinguished, — the Cathedral, 
otherwise called Christ Church, — which, as mentioned 
in our former notice, stands in the north-east quarter of 
the town. 

It is certain that, during the Roman domination in 
Great Britain, Christianity had been generally esta- 
blished in the southern parts of the island, which were 
inhabited by a mixed population of Britons and Romans. 
Many of the Romans who came over to colonize the 
country after its' conquest in the reign of the Emperor 
Claudius were, no doubt, Christians; and the general 
conversion of the natives within the subjugated territory 
most probably took place in the first or second century. 
It is most likely, also, that it was in part effected by 
the agency of missionaries who visited the island ex- 

Voi.. III. 



pressly for that purpose ; although but little confidence 
can be placed in the story told by the old monkish 
historians about the preachers that were sent over by 
Pope Eleutherius to a British king of the name of 
Lucius, who is said to have flourished before the close 
of the second century, and to have been the first prince 
of his nation who received the new faith. No doubt 
can be entertained that churches were built in many 
parts of the country in the course of the three centuries 
during which it enjoyed peace and security under the 
Roman protection. Whatever buildings, or remains of 
buildings, are now found, which bear the impress of 
Christian civilization, and cannot be assigned to a date 
subsequent to the establishment of the Saxons, must 
have been erected during this era of tranquillity, when 
letters and the arts probably flourished to a degree 
which they scarcely again attained in the course of the 
next thousand years. The Saxon invasion swept away 
all this, by rolling over the country a tide not only of 
savage ignorance but of war and slaughter, which de- 
solated a great part of the island for a century and a 
half. The reign of anything like civilization did not 



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recommence till towards the close of the siith ceutury. 
About this time, Ethelbert, king of Kent, married 
Bertha, the daughter of the French king Charibert ; 
and out of this event arose the first introduction of 
Christianity into Saxon Britain. It is supposed to have 
been on the application of Bertha, who was herself a 
convert, and a lady of great piety and virtue, that Pope 
Gregory I. was induced to send over from Rome the 
celebrated Augustine and his forty followers, who 
arrived in the Isle of Thanet in the year 59f , and were 
goon after permitted by Ethelbert to take up their 
residence in Canterbury, the capital of his dominions. 

Bede tells us that there was already a building in the 
eastern quarter of the city, which long before had been 
used as a Christian church ; and that this edifice was 
given by the king, after his conversion, to Augustine 
and his companions. There is every reason to believe 
that the church in question stood on the site of the 
present cathedral. It may have been built four or five 
centuries before, and must, at the least, have been two 
or three hundred years old. Having fallen into decay, 
it was enlarged and repaired under the direction of 
Augustine, who had by this time been consecrated 
Archbishop of Canterbury ; and who, having dedicated 
it to Christ, made it his cathedral. It hence derives its 
proper designation of Christ Church. 

The building thus founded, or rather restored and 
amplified, by Augustine, subsisted till the year 938, by 
which time, however, partly in consequence of a recent 
attack of the Danes, it had become little better than a 
ruin. The walls, we are told, were uneven, and in some 
places were broken down, and the roof was in so threat- 
ening a state that the church could not be safely entered. 
Odo, who was then archbishop, bestowed considerable 
cost in the reparation of the fabric; but, in 1011, the 
Danes, in a new attack, burned down the roof which 
he had erected, and left only the walls standing. After 
Canute came to the throne, however, in 1017, its re- 
storation was once more effected, the king having, it is 
said, contributed munificently to the expense. Bit the 
new disturbances, which arose after his decease, and 
especially the neglect and dilapidation to which it was 
exposed during the unavailing resistance of the Saxon 
Archbishop Stigand to the Norman Conqueror, had 
again reduced the structure to such a state, when Lan- 
franc succeeded to the see in 1070, that this prelate 
determined to rebuild it almost from the foundation. 
There is reason to believe, however, that even in this, 
the most complete re-edification which the church had 
yet sustained, the ancient walls were not entirely thrown 
down. 

Lanfranc lived to complete his design so far as that 
the cathedral in his time was once more rendered fit for 
the services of religion, and presented the appearance 
of a finished building. Considerable additions were 
made to it, however, by Anselm and others of his suc- 
cessors ; and even some parts which Lanfranc had built 
are recorded to have been taken down not long after 
his death, and re-erected in a different style. Conrad, 
a prior of the adjoining monastery, in particular, made 
such improvements on the choir, that it is stated to 
have been for a long time after generally known by his 
name. 

But, on the 5th of September, 1174, an accidental 
fire, which commenced in some houses on the south 
side of the church, and was carried by a high wind 
towards the sacred building, having seized upon the 
roof, soon reduced the whole once more to the bare 
walls. " The leads," says the old chronicler, Gervase, 
who was a monk of Canterbury, and flourished in the 
thirteenth century, " were melted, and the timber-work 
and painted ceiling all on fire fell down into the 
choir, where the stalls of the monks added fresh fuel 
n abundance." He also speaks of the walla, and 



especially the pillars, having been much scorched 
and injured ; but it does not appear that they were 
actually thrown down by the violence of the flames. 
A great sensation was excited by this calamity, not only 
throughout England, but the Whole of Christendom. 
The murder, or, as it was deemed, the martyrdom, 
of the famous Thomas a Becket, which took place in 
the cathedral of Canterbury on the 28th of December, 
1170, bad given an extraordinary sanctity to the build- 
ing, and attracted to it crowds of pilgrims from every 
country of Europe. The celebrity and reverential esti- 
mation which it had thus acquired soon made the funds 
necessary for its restoration pour in abundantly. The 
most distinguished personages of the age eagerly offered 
their aid — many bringing their oblations in person. The 
king, Henry II., himself contributed largely. ** In 
1 1 79," says Mr. Batteley in his additions to ' Somoert 
Antiquities of Canterbury,' " Louis VII., king of France, 
landed at Dover, where our king expected his arrival. 
On the 23rd of August these two kings came to Can- 
terbury, with a great train of nobility of both nations, 
and were received by the archbishop and his com pro- 
vincials, the prior and convent, with great honour and 
unspeakable joy. The oblations of gold and silver 
made by the French were incredible. The king came 
in manner and habit of a pilgrim — Was conducted to 
the tomb of St. Thomas in solemn procession — where 
he offered his cup of gold and a royal precious stone, 
with a yearly rental of 100 munis (hogsheads) of wine, 
for ever, to the convent, confirming his grant by roytl 
charter, under his seal, delivered in form." 

The rebuilding of the cathedral was commenced soon 
after the fire, and, the means being thus liberally sup- 
plied, was carried on for some years with great spirit. 
The direction of the work was entrusted to a French 
architect, William of Sens, who, however, only super- 
intended it for the first four rears, having then 
received an accidental injury which obliged him to 
relinquish his office. He was succeeded by an English- 
man. In 1 183, however, the stream of offerings having 
probably somewhat diminished, the operations were sus- 
pended by the monks, on the pretence that their funds 
were exhausted. The expedient had the desired effect. 
Contributions to the pious work poured in immediately 
in almost unprecedented abundance ; and the receivers 
were enabled not only to complete their original design, 
but to add to it new features of magnificence and 
splendour. The body of the cathedral soon stood once 
more in a finished state ; but many additions and alter- 
ations were made long after the main part of the work 
had been thus accomplished. In fact, the building 
might be said to be still only in progress when the 
Reformation broke out, and the kings mandate, on the 
dissolution of the religious houses, put a stop to its 
further decoration or enlargement, and left it in all 
material respects in the state in which we now see it. 

From this detail it appears that the present cathedral 
stands mainly on the same foundation with the ancient 
British church which Augustine found in Canterbury 
on his arrival at the end of the sixth century, nor is it 
altogether impossible that some portion of that primi- 
tive edifice may still remain in the pile as it now exists. 
It is acknowledged on all hands that part of Archbishop 
Lanfranc's cathedral is still standing ; and the vaults 
under the choir appear to be of a style of architecture 
anterior at any rate to the Norman Conquest. 

The cathedral of Canterbury is built in the usual 
form of a cross, having, however, two transepts. But- 
tresses rising into pinnacles are ranged along the walls 
both of the nave and the transepts ; and a square tower 
of great beauty ascends from toe intersection of the 
western transept and the nave. Two other towers also 
crown the extremities of the west front ; that to the 
north, which had been long in a ruinous state, an4 



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the upper part of which was removed many years ago, 
was taken down the year before last from the founda- 
tion, and is now being restored. 

The cathedral of Canterbury b very spacious. The 
following are its principal dimensions: — the length of 
the whole building from east to west, measured in the 
interior, is 514 feet; of which the choir occupies not 
less than 180 feet, being an extent unequalled by that 
of any other choir in England. The breadth of the 
nave with its side aisles is 71 feet; and its height 80 
feet. The larger transept is 154, the smaller 124 feet, 
in length from north to south. The height of the 
great . central tower, called the Bell-Harry steeple, is 
235 feet ;. and that of the Oxford and Arundel steeples, 
at the north and south extremities of the west front, 
about 130 feet. 

It is remarked of this Cathedral, by Mr. Hasted, 
in his * History of the County of Kent,' that, " not- 
withstanding the different ages in which the several 
parts of it have been built, and the various kinds 
of architecture singular to each, — no one part cor- 
responding with that adjoining to it, — yet there seems 
nothing unsightly or disagreeable in the view of 
it ; on the contrary, the whole together has a most 
venerable and pleasing effect." This observation is 
made in reference to the external aspect of the building, 
which, however, with the exception of the fine central 
tower, is not distinguished by any very extraordinary 
beauty or magnificence. The west front, so highly 
decorated in some of our other cathedrals, is here 
extremely plain. The interior, however, from the vast 
extent of the perspective, — now, since the removal of 
the organ to a side gallery, embracing the whole length 
' of the nave and choir, — and from the unusual elevation 
of the ceiling, has a very grand effect. The. ranges of 
tall windows on each side pour in the light in abundant 
streams between the lofty arches, so that, as the visiter 
moves forward, every thing around opens upon him in 
its full dimensions. The view upward, from Uiuler the 
great central tower, which is open to the height of 
above 200 feet, and lighted by successive tiers of 
windows all around, may well be conceived to be exceed- 
ingly imposing. Mr. Gostling, in his ' Walk in and 
about the City of Canterbury, , relates the following 
instance of the admiration which he once saw excited 
by the proportions of this tower : — " Many years ago, I 
had the pleasure of taking a walk with an eminent 
builder in this part of our cathedral. The person was 
Mr. Strong, son of him who was master-mason at 
St. Paul's in London, during the whole construction 
of that justly admired fabric; brought up under his 
father to the same business, and his successor in the 
works of the Royal Hospital at Greenwich. He could 
hardly be prejudiced in favour of the Gothic taste, and 
was undoubtedly a competent judge how strength and 
beauty were properly considered in works of such mag- 
nificence. When he came to make his observations 
here, and especially in the upper works, I was presently 
convinced that an artist sees with other eyes than they 
do who are not such ; and the eagerness of every step 
he took in examining and noting down the proportions 
of what he saw, with his passionate exclamation at my 
not being then able to satisfy him who was the designer 
of that stately tower, — in one of the galleries whereof 
we were standing and admiring it, — showed sufficiently 
how worthy he thought this forgotten architect of all 
the honour that could be paid to so exalted a genius." 
This tower was built about the end of the fifteenth 
century. 

It would require far more space than we can afford 
to describe at length all the different parts and orna- 
ments of the cathedral which are interesting either from 
their merit as productions of art, or from the historical 
associations with which they are connected. We can 



only mention shortly a few of the more remarkable. 
Among these is the ancient stone-screen at the entrance 
to the choir, the date of which is supposed to be the 
early part of the fourteenth century. It presents a rich 
display of Gothic sculpture ; and among the figures by 
which it is adorned are six kings wearing crowns, and 
holding in their hands five of them globes, and the 
sixth a church. The ancient stalls of the choir were 
removed in 1734, when the present were substituted in 
their place. Some parts of the ornamental work are sup- 
posed to have been executed by the celebrated Gibbons, 
by whom the admirable carvings of the fittings in the 
choir of St. Paul's were cut. Behind the choir, instead 
of the Lady Chapel, or chapel dedicated to the Virgin, 
which usually occupies this place in other cathedrals, is 
the chapel of the Holy Trinity, erected about 1184 in 
honour of St. Thomas a Becket, and long the most 
attractive part of the church, as containing his shrine. 
" This shrine," says Stow, " was builded about a mans 
height, all of stone, then upwards of timber plain, within 
which was a chest of iron, containing the bones of 
Thomas Becket, scull and all, with the wound of his 
death, and the piece cut out of his scull laid in the same 
wound. The timber-work of this shrine, on the outride, 
was covered with plates of gold, damasked with gold 
wire, which ground of gold was again covered with 
jewels of gold, as rings, ten or twelve cramped with 
gold wire into the said ground of gold, many of those 
rings having stones in them, brooches, images, angels, 
precious stones, and great pearls." Hither, in iS'io, 
the body of the Saint was removed from the crypt 
underground, where it had till then been deposited ; 
the Pope's legate, the Archbishops of Canterbury and 
Rheims, and divers other bishops and abbots, bearing 
the coffin on their shoulders, amidst a display of all 
that was most gorgeous and imposing in the pomps 
and splendours of the ancient ritual. The king him- 
self, Henry III., was present. The expenditure of 
Stephen Langton, the archbishop, is said to have been 
so profuse on this occasion, that he left a debt upon 
the revenues of the see which was not discharged til the 
time of his fourth successor. The cost, however, was in 
time amply repaid. Becket's shrine continued to draw 
an immense revenue of gifts to the church as long as 
the old religion lasted. Erasmus, who was admitted to 
a sight of the treasure deposited in the sacred chamber 
a short time before the Reformation, tells us, that 
under a coffin of wood, inclosing another of gold, which 
was drawn up from its place by ropes and pulleys, he 
beheld an amount of riches the value of which he could 
not estimate. Gold, he says, was the meanest thing to 
be seen ; the whole place shone and glittered with the 
rarest and most precious jewels, most of which were of 
an extraordinary sioe, some being larger than the egg 
of a goose. At the dissolution, Henry VIII. seized 
upon all this wealth. Stow says, that " the spoil in gold 
and precious stones filled two great chests, one of which 
six or seven strong men could do no more than convey 
out of the church at once." One of the precious stones, 
called the Regal of France, which had been presented 
by Louis VII. on his visit to the church, as mentioned 
above, in 1 179, he set and wore as a thumb-ring. At 
the same time he ordered the remains of Becket to be 
burned, and the ashes scattered to the winds. The 
bones of St. Dunstan and St. Anselm, which were also 
preserved in the cathedral of Canterbury, were pro- 
bably treated in the same way. The only trace of the 
shrine of the martyr that now remains is afforded by 
the pavement around the spot where it stood, which is 
worn down by the knees of the crowds of worshippers 
that, during more than three centuries, offered here their 
oblations and their prayers. The spot, we may here 
mention, which is pointed out as that on which Becket 
was assassinated, is in the northern portion of the 

h 3 



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western transept. That part of the church is on this 
account called the Martyrdom. At the east end of the 
chapel of the Holy Trinity is another of a circular form, 
called Becket's Crown, probably from the manner in 
which the ribs of the arched roof meet in the centre. It 
appears not to have been finished at the time of the 
Reformation ; and the works being then suspended, it 
remained in that state till about the middle of the last 
century, when it was completed at the expense of a 
private citizen. 

In the Chapel of the Holy Trinity stands the ancient 
patriarchal chair in which the archbishops are enthroned, 
and which, according to tradition, was the regal seat of 
the Saxon kings of Kent. It is formed of three pieces 
of grey marble, cut in pannels, the under part being 
90lid y like that of a seat cut out of a rock. In this 



chapel also, among other monuments, is that of the 
Black Prince, still in wonderful preservation after the 
lapse of nearly four centuries and a half. On a hand- 
some sarcophagus of grey marble, richly sculptured 
with coats of arms and other ornaments, lies the figure of 
the warrior in copper gilt, with his face displayed, but 
the rest of his body cased in armour. The sword, 
which had at one time been hung by his girdle, now 
lies loose by his side. Covering the whole is a wooden 
embattled canopy, and suspended over this are some 
of the actual weapons and other armour worn by the 
Prince : — his gauntlets, his helmet and crest, a surcoat 
of velvet elaborately adorned with gilding and em- 
broidery, and the scabbard of his dagger, displaying 
the arms of England and France. It is commonly 
sakl that the weapon itself was taken away by Oliver 



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[Cathedral Precinct Gateway.] 



Cromwell ; but this tradition has probably arisen merely 
from its having disappeared in the civil confusions of 
Cromwell's time. The shield of the Prince hangs on a 
pillar near the head of the tomb. Among the other 
tombs in this the most sacred part of the church, are 
that of Henry IV. and his second wife Queen Jane 
of Navarre, and those of Archbishop Courtney, Car- 
dinal Chatillon (of the Coligny family), and Cardinal 
Pole. In other parts of the church are the monu- 
ments of Archbishops Chichele, Bourchier, Walter, 
Peckham, Warham, Ludbury, and many other per- 
sonages connected with it in ancient times. 

A very curious part of the cathedral is what is called 
the Undercroft, being the crypt over which the choir is 



raised. It is undoubtedly the most ancient part of the 
building ; and as the architecture appears to be Saxon, 
it is supposed to have been part of the older church left 
standing by Lanfranc. The walls are perfectly destitute 
of ornament, and every thing presents the aspect of the 
most venerable antiquity. Of the pillars, some are 
round, others twisted, and neither in shafts nor capitals 
are there two of them alike. The circumference of 
most of the shafts is about four feet, and the height of 
shaft, plinth, and capital only six feet and a half. From 
these spring semi-circular arches, making a vaulted roof 
of the height of fourteen feet. The portion of this 
crypt under the west end of the choir was long in 
the possession of a congregation of Calvinists, which 



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[February 28 



originally consisted of refugee* driven from the Nether- 
lands by the persecutions of the Duke of Alva, in the 
reign of our Edward VI., and afterwards increased by 
a number of French Hugunots, who sought an asylum 
in this country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. 
They were principally silk-weavers ; and their numbers 
were at one time very considerable, but they latterly 
greatly diminished. Their place of meeting for divine 
worship in the cathedral is said to have been granted 
to them by Queen Elizabeth. 



[Capital of ft Columm in the Crypt.] 

There still remain in several of the windows of the 
church some fine specimens of ancient painted glass ; 
but the productions of this most fragile of the arts, 
with which it was formerly very richly adorned, were 
in great part mercilessly destroyed during the fanatic 
fury of the seventeenth century. A magnificent window 
in the northern wing of the western transept, in particular, 
suffered severely. The relation of its demolition has 
been given by the person who was himself most active 
in the work — an individual of the name of Richard 
Culraer (but more commonly called " Blue Dick "), 
who, on the recommendation of the Mayor of Canter- 
bury, was appointed by the House of Commons one of 
the six preachers in the cathedral, after the abolition of 
episcopacy. This zealot writes, " The commissioners 
fell presently to work on the great idolatrous window, 
standing on the left hand as you go up into the choir ; 
for which window some affirm many thousand pounds 
have been offered by outlandish papists. In that window 
was now the picture of God the Father, and of Christ, 
besides a large crucifix, and the picture of the Holy 
Ghost in the form of a dove, and of the' twelve apos- 
tles ; and in that window were seven large pictures of 
the Virgin Mary, in seven several glorious appearances ; 
as of the angels lifting her into heaven, and the sun, 
moon, and stars under her feet ; and every picture had 
^'an inscription under it, beginning with Gaude, Maria ; 
as (Jaude, Maria, Spontta Dei ; that w, Rejoice, Mary, 
thou Spouse of God. There were in this window many 
other pictures of popish saints, as of St. George, &c ; 
but their prime cathedral saint, Archbishop Becket, 
was most rarely pictured in that window, in full pro- 
portion, with cope, rochet, mitre, crosier, and his ponti- 
fical ib us. And in the foot of that huge window was a 
title, intimating that window to be dedicated to the 
Virgin Mary." In afterwards describing his own share 
in the work, he lets out that he was not a tittle vain of 
the performance, although he withholds his name ; — 
" A minister," he says, " was on the top of the eity 
ladder, near sixty steps high, with a whole pike U kia 



hand, rattling down proud Becket's glassy bones, when 
others then present would not venture so high." The 
modes in which self-admiration exhibits itself are very 
various. 

But we must now leave the cathedral, and proceed 
to the other buildings, which we have also to notice. 
Before quitting the quarter, however, in which the 
metropolitan church is situated, we must direct attention 
to the fine specimen of a kind of architecture in which 
our ancestors greatly delighted — the Precinct Gate — of 
the present appearance of which, worn and half oblite- 
rated by time, but still majestic, our wood-cut furnishes 
a faithful representation. It forms the principal en- 
trance, that from the south-west corner, to the extensive 
court in which the cathedral stands, surrounded by the 
prebendal houses, the deanery, what was the archiepis- 
copal palace, and other buildings connected with the 
establishment of the church. It opens upon the ancient 
avenue from the High Street, called Mercery Lane, 
where, in the Chequer Inn, occupying more than half 
the west side, and extending a considerable way down 
the High Street, and in other large tenements adjoining, 
were formerly lodged many of the pilgrims who crowded 
hither from all parts to pay their devotions at the shrine 
of St. Thomas. The gate is correctly described by 
Somner, in his * History of the Cathedral,' as " a very 
goodly, strong, and beautiful structure, and of excel- 
lent artifice." From an inscription over the arch, now 
nearly illegible, it appears to have been built in the 
year 1517. Of the space within the precinct, a consi- 
derable part is occupied by the cemetery of the cathe- 
dral, and the remainder which is not covered by build- 
ings is for the most part laid out in gardens. It may 
form about a fifth part of the whole city within the 
walls. Of the archbishop's palace, which stood on the 
west side, little is now remaining. The great court has 
been converted partly into gardens and partly into a 
timber-yard; and a private dwelling-house has been 
formed out of the porch of the great hall. There are a 
considerable number of private houses, and aS.y of 
shops, within the precinct. 

Several of the old city gates of Canterbury were 
venerable for their antiquity ; but they have now, we 
believe, all been removed, with the exception of that 
called Westgate, at the north-west extremity of the High 
Street, over which is the city prison. At the opposite 
extremity of the same street was Ridinggate, crossing 
the road to Dover, near to which were two arches of 
Roman brick and architecture. At Worthgate, forming 
the termination of Castle Street, on the south-west, was 
another Roman arch ; and there was another at Que- 
ningate, leading out from the east side of the cathedral 
precinct. 

Directly facing this last-mentioned entrance stands 
the very handsome structure of which we have given 
an engraving — the great gate of the now ruined mo- 
nastery of St Augustine. This monastery is commonly 
believed to have been originally founded by St. Augus- 
tine on ground granted to him by King Ethelbert, and 
to have been at first dedicated to St. Peter and St. 
Paul. It was St. Dunstan who, in the year 976, dedi- 
cated it anew to these apostles, and also to St. Augus- 
tine. Speaking of the two establishments of Christ 
Church and St. Augustine's, Lambarde, in his * Peram- 
bulation of Kent,' (1596) says, "The monks of the 
which places were as far removed from all mutual love 
and society, as the houses themselves were near linked 
together, either in regard of the time of their foundation, 
the order of their profession, or the place of their situa- 
tion. And, therefore, in this part it might well be 
verified of them, which was wont to be commonly said, 
Unicum arbustum non alit duoserithacos ; — One cherry- 
tree suflaoeth not two jays. For indeed one whole city, 
nny rather oj* whole shire and country, could hardly 



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suffice the pride and ambitious avarice of such two 
irreligious synagogues ; the which, as in all places they 
agreed to enrich themselves by the spoil of the laity, 
so in no place agreed they one with another ; but, each 
seeking everywhere and by all ways to advance them- 
selves, they moved continual and that most fierce and 
deadly war, for lands, privileges, relics, and such like 
vain worldly pre-eminences ; insomuch as he that will 
observe it shall find that universally the chronicles of 
their own houses contain for the most part nothing else 
butsueing for exemptions, procuring of relics, struggling 
for offices, wrangling for consecrations, and pleading 
for lands and possessions. 1 ' In another place, having 
occasion to notice one of their early quarrels, he again 
returns to the subject : — " Thus you see how soon after 
the foundation these houses were at dissension, and for 
how small trifles they were ready to put on arms, and 
to move great and troublesome tragedies ; neither do I 
find that ever they agreed after, but were evermore at 
continual brawling within themselves, either sueing 
before the king or appealing to the pope, and that for 
matters of more stomach than importance ; as, for ex- 
ample, whether the abbot of St. Augustine's should be 
consecrated or blessed in his own church or in the 
other's ; whether he ought to ring his bells at service, 
before the other had rung theirs ; whether he and his 
tenants owed suit to the bishop's court ; and such like, 
wherein it cannot be doubted but that they consumed 
inestimable treasure for maintaining of their most 
popish pride and wilfulness." 

The small portion of the monastery which now 
remains adjoins the great gateway ; but at the dissolu- 
tion of the religious houses it was so extensive a building 
that Henry VIII. seized upon it as a palace for himself. 
It was afterwards granted to Cardinal Pole for life, by 
Queen Mary. On his decease it reverted to the crown ; 
and, in 1573, Queen Elizabeth, having paid a visit to 
Canterbury, kept her court here. 

This building afterwards came into the possession 
of Lord Wotton, whose lady, after her husband's death, 
received Charles II. here on his way to London, at 
the Restoration. From her it is still commonly 
called Lady VTottoas Palace. The whole area com- 
prehended within the inclosure of the monastery is 
about sixteen acres. In the fifth edition of Mr. Gost- 
ling's work, printed about thirty years ago, it is said — 
44 The west front of the monastery extends about f 50 
feet, and the walls which inclose the whole precincts 
are standing ; the great gate has buildings adjoining, ! 
which once had some handsome apartments, and par- 
ticularly a bed-chamber, with a ceiling very curiously 
painted. The whole fe now lei to one who keeps a 
public-house ; and, having plenty of excellent water, 
this apartment is converted to a brewheuse, the steam 
of which has miserably defaced that fine ceiling. The 
rest of the house he has fitted up for such customers 
as choose to spend their time there, having tuned the 
great court-yard into a bowling-green, the fine ehapei 
adjoining to the north side of the ehureh into a fiveV- 
court, with a skittle-ground near it; and the great 
room over the gate to a cock-pit.* A short distance to 
the south-east of the gate stands a fragment known by 
the name of Ethelbert's Tower, which appears to have 
been a portion of the old abbey church. Not far 
from this was erected some years ago a City and County 
Hospital for the relief of the sick and lame poor. It 
stands near the middle of the area. To the east of 
that again is a small edifice of mat antiquity, eafied 
St. Pancras' Chapel, the materials and architecture of 
which appear to be Roman, and which, according to 
tradition, was King Ethelbert's private chapel, in which 
he worshipped his ancestral gods before his conversion 
to Christianity. It is only thirty feet long by twenty- 
pne in breadth. 



But the most interesting monument of antiquity in 
Canterbury, and one of the most interesting in the 
kingdom, is the church of St. Martin, at some distance 
east from the chapel of St. Pancras, and beyond the 
precinct of the monastery. * It stands on the side of a 
hill, rising on the left hand of the road leading to Deal, 
within half a mile of the city walls. The body of this 
church, which is still used for divine service, is built o 
Roman bricks ; and the character of the architecture, 
although about that there has been much difference of 
opinion, has been thought to concur in indicating that 
its erection must have preceded the Saxon invasion. 
It is probable, at any rate, that it was built of the 
materials, and on the site, of a Roman edifice. Bede 
states that Augustine, on his arrival, found two ancient 
Christian churches at Canterbury, the one within the 
city in its eastern quarter, and the other at a short 
distance without the walls. The former was, no doubt, 
that which was eventually converted into the cathedral, 
and the other this church of St. Martin's ; or, at least, 
the older building in the same place, out of the materials 
of which the present church was constructed. Here 
Queen Bertha, is said to have had the services of re- 
ligion performed to herself and her Christian attendants 
by her chaplain Luidhard, before the arrival of the 
Roman missionary ; and it was here also that Au- 
gustine first performed mass, the other church within 
the city not having been opened till it was enlarged 
and repaired. A very ancient font still exists in Si. 
Martin's Church, which is asserted to have been that 
used at the baptism of King Ethelbert. 

Such are the principal memorials of its ancient 
greatness which are now left to this venerable ec- 
clesiastical metropolis. Our limits have enabled us 
rather to note rapWly the chief points of interest pic- 
sented by each than to describe any of them fully. A 
complete account of the cathedral alone would furnish 
matter for a large volume, and the subject has indeed 
occupied several large volumes. The early history ui' 
some others of these old buildings, again, carries us so 
for into the deepest night of the past, that, although 
there is Kttle to relate, there is, on that very account 
the more to conjecture, and the wider field for the 
imagination to expatiate in. In traversing the streets 
of Canterbury, we tread ground which has probably 
been deemed holy and famous since religion, in any 
form, first set up her temples in our island, or shed a 
mystic sanctity over hill and grove. There is reason to 
believe that the first Christian churches were usually, 
if not always, planted on those sites which superstition 
had previously consecrated in the hearts of the people. 
Besides, it can hardly be doubted that Canterbury was 
a Roman station; and if so, it was most likely a 
British town before the arrival of the Romans. The 
position of the place would point it out for a settlement 
on the first occupation of the country, — situated, 
especially, as it was, in the district that was pro- 
bably first seized upon and peopled. The bar* 
barian rites of Draidism, shadowing them with gloom 
and fear, may therefore have first given distinc- 
tion tt> the spots on which now rise the Cathedral 
and the old church of St Martin, monuments of the 
religion of purity, and peace, and hope. But if the 
vision of these primitive times is dim and uncertain, 
there was at least a long subsequent period during 
which Canterbury stood in celebrity and glory among 
the foremost of the cities of the earth. The history of 
a grcat part of the middle ages is so nearly a blyik, 
or at least is marked by so few events that interest us 
in the present day, that we are apt to form a very in- 
adequate conception of the length of that tract of time. 
The histories of Greece and Rome have been familiarized 
to oui naiads ia sneh amplitude of detail, that we make 
a sufficient allowance for the space in the chronology 



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of the world over which they extend ; and for a similar 
reason we are still less given to contract within too 
narrow bounds our estimate of the period comprehended 
under what may be strictly called modern history. The 
Reformation, for instance, seems to us now a very old 
event; and the time that has since elapsed, a long 
stretch of years. It appears like all the history we 
have, with the exception of a portion hardly worth 
attention, since the dissolution of the western empire. 
Yet that overlooked portion is in reality more than 
three tin 



exclusively to fill our imaginations. If we are, there- 
fore, to take a full view of what Canterbury has been, 
we must carry our contemplation back over not only 
her three last centuries of comparative obscurity and 
decay, but her longer preceding period of renown and 
splendour. At the Reformation, the first thronging 
of the world's multitudes to the shrine of Becket was 
an older event than the Reformation is now ; and 
from the Reformation back to the arrival of St. Au- 
gustine, was three times as loner a retrosoect as it ia 



|The Nave of Canterbury Cathedral.] 



Prist* bjWu.iUM Owwu, DuU Strttt, Uofttta, 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[March 1, 1834. 



THE MANGO TREE. 



[Mango Tree.J 



The Mango- tree is a native of India and the south- 
western countries of Asia, and also grows abundantly 
in Brazil and the West Indies. It was introduced into 
Jamaica in the year 1782. It is a large tree, attaining 
the height of thirty or forty feet, with thick and wide- 
extended branches, and has been compared to the oak, 
in it3 manner of growth. The leaves are scattered, 
stalked, simple, about a span long and an inch or two 
wide, wavy, entire, tapering at each end, veiny, smooth, 
and shining. 

•* The flowers are small and whitish, formed into 
pyramidal branches ; the fruit has some resemblance to 
a short thick cucumber, and, on the average of the 
varieties, of which there are many, about the size of a 
goose's egg. At first the fruit is of a fine green colour, 
and in some of the varieties it continues so, while others 
become partly or wholly orange. When ripe, the mango 
emits* a smell which is very pleasant, and the flavour of it 
then is exceedingly gratifying. Externally there is a thin 

Vol. III. 



skin ; and upon removing that, a pulp, which has some 
appearance of consistency, but which melts in the mouth 
with a cooling sweetness that can hardly be imagined 
by those who have not tasted that choicest of nature's 
delicacies. In the heart of the pulp there is a pretty 
large stone, resembling that of the peach, to which the 
pulp adheres firmly." — (' Vegetable Substances,' p. 
400.) In one variety of the mango, however, the stone 
does not exist. 

The varieties of the mango are very numerous. Up- 
wards of eighty are cultivated, and the size of the trees 
and the quality of the fruits vary according to the coun- 
tries where they grow, and the circumstances of their 
situation. While the fruit, as a whole, is one of the 
most delicious of vegetable products, in some varieties 
it is so deteriorated as to have been, rather disparag- 
ingly perhaps, compared to a " mixture of tow and tur- 
pentine." The mangos of Asia are said to be much 
superior in size and flavour to those of America ; and so 



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Mririv are some of the finer trees prized in India, that 
2HL ^Sced over them during the fruit seaso* u- 
The largest variety is the - mango dodol, the fruit of 
which weighs upwards of two pounds. 

Travellers and residents in the East speak 111 warm 
terms of the mango, as by far the best fruit that u ; ge- 
neraily produced in those regions, and as that which is 
most uniformly grateful to an European palate. The 
fruit is variously used. Sometimes it is cut into slices and 
eaten either with or without wine, or macerated m wine ; 



tU*acfi 1, 



tine, had been in the habit of meeting at each other's 
bouses in the evening, and playing and practising 
together. The taste had originated with a young- man 
of the place, woo had acquired a little knowledge of 
music at Brighton. He had taught some of his com- 
rades ; and, by degrees, they had so increased in num- 
ber and improved in the art, that now, to use the words 
of the informant, " there were eight or ten of them that 
could play by book and in public." In fact, the next 
morning, "as the traveller was sitting at breakfast, a 



in wine; uiuauiug, «*» -•«< — — -w - 

frequently opened with , » knife, «d *he™™e JJjIuj P£*£ ^^ manner The 

with fresh pnger prtrt, ««J»^«* -J "J ort , pjgj^ ^ J y Hstened he precedj 

or vinegar, that it may be eaten with -nee, or aiier ^ ^ ^ ^^ Thw( ^ ^ ctrpenter „ f 

"^jfirfJSirfU- tree are all applied to «Hne the vUfage, the nUage ^^^t^ fal'e" 

k !kl H5«^«n« The wood it consecrated to the of them wore the wnoek-frock common to fanners 

^ rf tS *S*- ao2e e^y^t HmsWt the men. The homely garte, becoming their situations m 

service ot the dead . some e ™V™y ' l w . . i y f we „ neat .ad deaji • » n d, without one exception, 

s^tfita i-^?u^s saarsrtjsi! S£i."s«ir- r «— 4 *« «*.# ^ * 

«. P'^b^eS^: i StSitlS ^ayTd t^in°d f Sru^r. 
chewing of betel From the flour of the dned kerneU rne ««™ me .eldoT lktened to the concert of pro- 

ZEj E**? H SSS5L « itriSS - ^n^^orto the. opera, where, the. Jrst-^e 
flowers, Dant, etc. many uwuk, . . ^:^ disolav their skill* with so much interest as he 

^&££ZZ£Z^JSS** F- St SLrt* band"; for he thought he traced in it 
served « ™ Set of curiosit? in the stove, where it I an indication and a prom«e that the refinements, and 
»m!tinTes bloMoms in s P rin K and autumn. As the ripe ' some of the most exquisite enjoyments, of life might be 
^^SSCK. is never brought^ P b*ed within the,*** of the industrious .andthe poor, 



this country in any other state than the green fruit 
pickled, from which no idea of the flavour can be formed. 
Even the vegetative power of the nut or kernel can with 
difficulty be preserved during the voyage from India, 
unless it be inclosed in wax. It is said to be the best 
course to have a quantity of the nuts set in tubs of earth 
in the country where the mango naturally grows ; and, 
when the plants are grown a foot in height, to have 
them shipped, when a covering should be placed over 
them, to defend them from the water and spray of the 
sea, care being also taken not to give them too much 
water during the passage. 



MUSIC FOR THE MANY. 

[From a Cormpondeat.J 

The writer of these pages, in the course of a recent 
journey, was much interested by the following simple 
circumstances, which seemed to prove that a taste for a 
refined amusement, to the exclusion of drunken riot and 
pot-house bawling, was beginning to obtain among the 
people. He arrived, early in the evening, at a small 
village in Sussex, where he passed the night. Being 
tired of the solitude of the inn and the dulness of a 
country newspaper, he walked down the street of the 
village, and, in so doing, was brought to a pause before 
a small cottage, no ways distinguished from the other 
humble homesteads of the place, from which proceeded 
sounds of sweet music. The performance within con- 
sisted, not of voices, but instalments ; and the piece 
playing was one of great pathos and beauty, and not 
devoid of musical difficulty. When it was finished, and 
the performers had rested a few seconds, they executed 
a German quartet of some pretensions in very good 
style. This was followed by variations on a popular air 
by Stephen Storace, which they played in excellent 
time, and with considerable elegance and expression. 
Several other pieces, chosen with equal good taste, 
succeeded this ^und the stranger enjoyed a musical treat 
where he little expected one. * 

On making inquiries at the inn, he found that the 
performers to whom he had been listening were all 
young men of the village, — humble mechanics and 
agricultural labourers, — who, for some considerable 



UUK.CU wa%a*»«» »-m^» •*•— — » 

and that merely by a little exertion of their own, and in 
the way of a cheap and rational amusement for their 
leisure hours. 

England, which, taken generally, is now decidedly 
not a musical country, appears at one time to have had 
considerable claims to that distinction, and to ha e 
merited the name of u Merry England" by the univer-a! 
prevalence of song and minstrelsy. We shall not he e 
attempt to explain the causes by which the love for the 
bewitching and most accessible of the fine arts has been 
uprooted in the minds of the people, but shall merely 
mention a few facts relating both to oar own, and 
other countries, to show what has been, and what, i 1 
our opinion, may be again. 

Dr. Burney, in his voluminous and learned work*. 
establishes beyond a doubt, that not only was there a 
widely-spread taste for melody in England at a very 
early period, but that in counterpoint, or music in 
parts, in songs, glees, and airs which 

« The ploagfcmco whistled o'er the furrov'd lamd," 
and in secular music generally, we rather preceded than 
followed the other European nations. 

Even the Italian writers of the fifteenth century 
speak with the greatest respect of the musical talents 
of this country. Landini, in his * Commentary ou 
Dante,' says, that " many most excellent musicians " 
came from England to Italy, crossing seas, Alps, and 
Apennines to liear the performance of a celebrated or- 
ganist called Antonio degli Organi. And another 
author, who was leader of the music in the Royal 
Chapel of Ferdinand, king of Naples, not only men- 
tions the excellence of English vocal music in parte, 
but attributes (incorrectly as it should appear) the 
entire invention of counterpoint to an Englishman, John 
of Dunstable, who lived about the middle of the fif- 
teenth century. 

Dr. Burney says that, previously to the middle of the 
sixteenth century, he could meet with little or no 
music in parts, except church music, in any foreign 
country; but that, in England, he found masses in 
four, five, and six parts, and secular songs in our own 
language, in two and three parts, and in very good 
counterpoint, of the fifteenth and beginning of the 

* ' General History of Music* 



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sixteenth century. The same is asserted by Hawkins*, 
though the fact is disputed by Ritson f. 

From the frequent mention made by Chaucer of 
music, both vocal and instrumental, it has been con- 
cluded that the love and practise of the art was much 
diffused among the English people even in the times of 
that old poet J. 0f his Canterbury Pilgrims met at 
the Tabard Inn u in Southwark," • 

4 * Wei nine and twenty in a compagnie," 
six are described as being adepts in music, — some play- 
ing and some singing, — and two of them (the Squire 
and the Mendicant Friar) doing both. 

Although no music, in parts, of so old a date has 
been preserved, Dr. Burney is induced by the following 
passage, which occurs in Chaucer's * Dream,' where he 
is describing a concert of birds, — 

" — - for some of hem songe lowe, 
Some high, and all of one accorde," i 

to believe that the practise of singing in parts must 
have been common at that period. There is no doubt 
that this delightful kind of music, by which the most 
beautiful effects may be produced without the aid of 
any instrument, was a great favourite with the English 
people at an early period, and was indebted to them 
for many improvements. A curious composition, de- 
scriptive of the approach of summer, the music of which 
is four hundred years old, whilst the words are still 
older, has been preserved in a manuscript of the Har- 
leian Library, now in the British Museum. It is a 
canon in unison for four voices,' with the addition of 
two more voices for the " pes," as it is called, which is a 
kind of ground, and is the basis of the harmony §. The 
words of this old song have been partially modernized, 
thus: — 

" Summer ig a-coming in, 

Loud sing cuckoo ; 

Groweth seed 

And bloweth mead, 

And springeth the weed new. 

Ewe bleateth after lamb,— 

Loweth after calf, cow ; 

Bulloek sterteth, (leapt) 

Bucke verteth, (frequentt green placet) 

Merry sing cuckoo. 

Well sing'st thou, cuckoo ; 

Nor cease thou ever now." 

Of the music Dr. Burney says, that the modulation is 
monotonous, and that its chief merit is " the airy and 
pastoral correspondence of the melody with the words," 
— a merit, be it said, of no mean value. 

Mr. Stafford Smith, towards the end of the last 
century, made a collection of ancient English songs, 
written in score for three or four voices, but the oldest 
music to such songs is scarcely intelligible. The number 
collected, however, proves how popular that sort of 
music was in early times. 

A curious and valuable manuscript has been pre- 
served which once belonged to Doctor Robert Fayrfax, 
an eminent English composer during the reigns of 
Henry VII. and Henry VIII. It consists of a collec- 
tion of old English songs with their music, which is 
frequently in pA. The composers are, William of 
Newark, Sherymjham, Edmund Turges, Tudor, Gilbert 
Banester, Browne, Richard Davy, William Cornyshe, 
Syr Thomas Phelyppes, and Robert Fayrfax. Most of 
this goodly number were merely secular composers, and 
had nothing to do with church music. Cornyshe was 
one of the best of them, and his rondeau style Was fol- 
lowed by the delightful English eomposer Pureell, 
nearly two hundred years later. 

To be able to sing a part in the madrigals, and other mil 
pieces of the time, was then considered as an indispen- 



1 History of Music/ 
f ' Ancient Songs, from the Thus of King Henry III. to the 

Revolution.' 



Chaucer died about 1400. 



$ Sir John Hawking. 



sable accompnsuuieiii, net only for a private gentleman 
but for a prince. Lord Herbert of Cherbury tells ui 
of Henry VIII., whom we might have suspected of 
having had u no music in his soul," that he was " a 
curious musician." It appears, indeed, that that king 
had, or pretended to have, the merit of composing the 
music for two high masses, and that he often sang a 
part himself. We hear of several musicians being 
about his court ; Thomas Abel taught his Queen Ca- 
therine " music and grammar," and it is probable that 
as was the case in much older times, the schoolmaster 
generally included music in his instructions. Another 
musician or poet, by name Gray, is particularly men- 
tioned as having risen high in favour with this same 
monarch, and afterwards with the Protector, the Duke 
of Somerset, " for making certaine merry ballades, 
whereof one chiefly was, ' The hunt is up — the hunt 
is up *.' " 

" A popular species of harmony," says Ritson, whose 
collection affords several specimens of it, " arose in this 
reign : it was called « King Henry's Mirth,' or ' Free- 
men's Songs,' that monarch being a great admirer of 
vocal music. ' Freemen's songs ' is a corruption of 
1 Three men's songs,' from their being generally for 
three voices. Thus the clown in Shakspeare's * Win- 
ter's Tale :' — ' She hath made me four and twenty 
nosegays for the shearers: three-man-song-men, all, 
and very good ones.' ' 

A vast number of these pieces, and of canons, 
rounds, and catches, some of which are ingenious and 
exhilarating compositions, were produced about this 
time; and as the press had obtained something like 
activity, the words of them were printed and scattered 
over every part of the country. But very few songs 
for a single voice appeared. 

The printed ballads were hawked about in baskets, 
and the selling and the singing of them, which were 
sometimes united in the same persons, soon became a 
profitable branch of trade. In an old pamphlet by 
one Henry Chettie, which is supposed to have been 
published in the time of Queen Elizabeth, it is asserted 
with astonishment and anger that " Out-roaring Dick 
and Wat Winbars " got twenty shillings a day by sing- 
ing at Braintree Fair in Essex. It appears that these 
wandering songsters did not content themselves with 
the level of the street, or the kennel, as is the case now- 
adays, but sang mounted upon benches and barrel- 
heads ;— hence they are frequently called by the old 
writers cantabanqui, or, more correctly, cantabanchi, 
an Italian compound term composed of canlare (to 
sing) and banchi (benches). They seem to have called 
over the list of the wares they had for sale,— a practice 
not yet obsolete. It may be amusing to compare these 
titles or head-lines with those we now hear from the 
ballad-sellers in our streets. The following are a few of 
the old ones :— ' The Three Ravens,' a dirge ; « Broom, 
Broom, on Hill ;' 4 So Woe is me, Begtme !' ' By a 
Bank as I Lay ;' * Bonny Lass upon a Green !' * Peggy 
and Willy ;' « The Lincolnshire Bagwpipes;' ' But now 
he is Dead and Gone ;' * Over a Whinny Weg ;' 4 Mine 
own sweet Willy is laid in his Grave ;' ' Three Merry 
Men we be;' * Now Robin lend me thy Bow ;' * He is 
dead and gone, Lady,' &c, Ac. 

During the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., there 
flourished several excellent masters, whose compositions 
bear the stamp of national originality. Among these 
were Bird, who wrote the still popular canon, 4 Non 
Nobis Domine,' and the music to the beautiful secular 
song, • My mind to me a kingdom is f ;' Morley, his 
scholar, who produced a great number of canzonettes, 

1 Arte of English Poesie/ (publifhed in 1589, ) 



* Put ten ham's 
quoted ia Rition. 

f The reader will find this moral and beautiful song in No. 25 
of the ' Penny Magaatne.' 

M2 



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or short songs for three and more voices ; Ford, a 
superior genius, who published some pieces for four 
voices accompanied by lutes and viols, and wrote a 
great many catches which were social and facetious ; 
George Kirbye, another good composer of songs m 
parts; and Thomas Weelkes, whom the immortal 
Shakspeare often furnished with words for his music. 
It is, indeed, on the songs in parts of this period, or 
from 1560 to 162;>, that the musical reputation of Eng- 
land must mainly rest. That this sort of vocal music 
was popular at the time, we may conclude from the 
following list of the works published by Morley between 
the years 1593 and 1597. 

1. Canzonettes,or short songs, for 3 voices. 

2. Madrigals, for 4 do. 

3. Ballets, or Fa-las, for 5 do. 

4. Madrigals, for 5 do. 

5. Canzonnetes, or short airs, for 5 and 6 do. 

In fact, instrumental music had made small progress 
in Europe at the commencement of the seventeenth 
century ; lutes, viols, and virginals, were almost the 
only instruments in use, and the lovers of music sup- 
plied the place of a complicated orchestra by the various 
qualities of their own natural voices. We would not 
limit the present age to a such a system, but we would 
intimate that beautiful effects can be produced by such 
simple means, — that the most perfect of all instruments 
is the voice which God has given us, and that, by some 
attention paid to its cultivation, the poorest family in the 
land may obtain a pleasant choir, and a medium for 
the enjoyment of music. We would draw back atten- 
tion to our own old vocalists, and then it would not 
stand as a reproach against the English that, while the 
Scotch and the Irish have a national music, they have 
none. The truth is, that in our catches and glees, in 
the works of the composers of the days of Elizabeth 
and James I., and in those of Purcell, and others at 
a later period, we are in possession of a music essentially 
national and original — not taken from any foreign 
sources. 

(To be oootinoed.] 



THE EAST INDIA COMPANY. 
The history of the East India Company has had no 
parallel in the history of nations. To trace the steps by 
which a company of merchants have mounted the 
throne of Aurungzebe, before which the representatives 
of their predecessors appeared kneeling, with their 
hands bound before them, is a subject requiring the 
most extensive and various knowledge. The last has 
been most ably performed by Mr. Mill, in his • History of 
British India ;' and to that work we refer our readers 
for a complete view of this large subject. We only 
propose to introduce a short description of the building 
repiesented in our cut, by a rapid account of the 
great political body to which it belongs. 

From very early times, the commercial enterprise of 
Europeans has been directed towards an immediate 
intercourse with the East Indies. To this, however, the 
extended, power of the Arabian khalifa, and the sub- 
sequent establishment of the Turkish and Persian 
monarchies opposed barriers which were only imper- 
fectly surmounted by the Venetians, who long engrossed 
all the commerce which Europe had with the East. — 
From the desire to partake in the wealth which flowed 
to Venice from this source, arose mainly the splendid 
maritime discoveries of the Portuguese and Spaniards. 
We hardly need remind our readers that the discovery 
of America by Columbus was an accident in his pursuit 
of a westward passage to India. 

The establishment of a maritime route to India, by 
way of the Cape of Good Hope, by Vasco de Garni 
m the year 1498, threw the commerce of the East into 



the hands of the Portuguese, who held it without a rival 
for nearly a hundred years ; but the power of Portug-ai 
in the East became weakened by the union of that king- 
dom with Spain, and its decline was accelerated by the 
establishment of an exclusive company in 1587, which 
soon became involved in disputes, eventually ruinous, 
with the Government in India. The revolt of the Ne- 
therlands, by excluding the Dutch from their profitable 
factorship of East India produce, induced them to en- 
gage in the direct trade to India, which they did with 
such brilliant success that the English were soon in- 
duced to follow the example. 

In the year 1599, just a century from the landing of 
Vasco de Gama on the coast of Malabar, the first asso- 
ciation was formed, in London, for prosecuting trade 
between England and India. On the 31st of December 
of the following year, this association obtained a char- 
ter, under the title of " The Governor and Company 
of Merchants of London trading to the East Indies," 
by which the Earl of Cumberland and 215 other per- 
sons obtained, for a period of 15 years, the exclusive 
right of trading to all countries from the Cape of Good 
Hope eastward to the Straits of Magellan, excepting 
those which were in the possession of friendly European 
powers. The proprietors, thus incorporated, appointed 
a committee of twenty-four of their number, and a chair- 
man, who were to be chosen annually for the manage- 
ment of their affairs. Until 1613 the Company con- 
sisted merely of a society, subject to particular regula- 
tions ; each member managed affairs on his own account, 
and was only bound to conform to certain general rules. 
Notwithstanding the disadvantages of this arrangement, 
the profits of the trade in this period amounted to from 
100 to 200 per cent, on the capital employed. In 1609 
the Company obtained the renewal of its charter for an 
unlimited period, subject, however, to its being dissolved 
upon three years' notice being given ; and about two 
years after, it was allowed permission to establish fac- 
tories at Surat, Ahmedabad, Cam bay, and Goga, upon 
its agreeing to pay a duty of 3i per cent, on all ship- 
ments of merchandise. In 1612 the capital was united, 
and the constitution in consequence became more aris- 
tocratic ; the largest stock-holders having the principal 
management, and the great body of the proprietors 
having only a nominal control in the general meetings. 
New funds were raised ; and the concerns of the Com- 
pany became so prosperous, that in the course of four 
years, the shares rose to the value of 203 per cent. Its 
factories, also, were extended to Java, Sumatra, Bor- 
neo, the Banda Islands, Celebes, Malacca, Siam, the 
coasts of Malabar and Coromandel, but chiefly in the 
states of the Mogul, whose favour was anxiously culti- 
vated. Iu consequence of this success, a new subscrip- 
tion, which was opened in 1616, produced 1,600,0001. 

But in 1627 the opposition to the Stuarts brought 
into question the monopoly of the Company, which 
rested only on a royal grant, and many complaints of 
abuses and bad management were brought forward. 
The doubts as to the exclusive rights of the Company 
were strengthened by the conduct ofi|e crown, which, 
greatly to the disadvantage of the a^ciation, granted 
to individuals the privilege of trading to India. The 
utmost efforts of the directors to obtain the recall of 
this license were ineffectual until 16^0, when, upon the 
promise of its annulment, the corporation was required 
to raise a new joint stock in order to carry on the trade 
on a sufficiently extensive scale. u J t appears probable," 
says a writer in the * Companion to the Newspaper,' 
" from this and other circumstances, that in this early 
period of the Company's operations, not only were the 
profits upon the adventures paid to the subscribers, but 
that the capital sum embarked was also returned to 
them at the winding up of each adventure. 11 The 
engagement tp withdraw the license of the rival coin- 



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pany was, however, not fulfilled ; and both associations, 
feeling the disadvantage that resulted from competition, 
united their interests in 1650. But five years after 
a schism occurred in the Company itself; for a body of 
the proprietors being dissatisfied with the management 
of the directois, obtained permission from Cromwell to 
fit out ships for trading with India, but this association, 
also, formed two years after a coalition with the parent 
company. Very soon after the Revolution, the Com- 
pany had a more formidable opposition to encounter. 
Capital had accumulated in the country, which the 
owners wished to employ in commercial speculations ; 
nd the people had come to a little understanding of 



their political rights. Hence the question was started 
whether the king could impose restrictions on commerce 
by a charter, and whether a sovereign, who possessed 
the sovereignty conditionally, could confer them on a 
privileged corporation : for the unlimited power of life 
and death over British subjects in the East had been 
granted in 1624 ; and in 1661 the right of making peace 
and war with any prince or people, not being Christians, 
was conceded. The question was decided in the negative 
by the House of Commons. But the king having, 
nevertheless, renewed the charter in 1693, the House 
passed a resolution, " That it is the right of all English- 
men to trade to the East Indies, or to any part of the 



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world, unless prohibited by act of parliament.' 1 Rivals ) 
in the trade started up under the sanction of this decla- 
ration, and they ultimately succeeded, by an arrange- ; 
ment with the government, in obtaining a charter of 
incorporation. This association, however, acted but fee- j 
bly during the three years of notice to which the old , 
Company was entitled ; and so much inconvenience j 
wa9 found to result from the rivalship of the two corpo- 
rations, that a complete and final union was effected in { 
1708, when they took the common name of " The , 
United Company of Merchants trading to the East , 
Indies." The act of parliament which recognized this ' 
transaction, established the Company upon the footing 
on which, with some modifications, it remained until 
the recent alterations. The renewal of the charter ' 
in 1732 was not obtained without difficulty, and against 
much opposition. The Company therefore thought- it 
advisable, in 1744, to advance 1,000,000/. at an interest 
of 3 per cent., for the extension of their grant till 1780. 

During the transactions which we have thus briefly 
glanced over, the Company was gradually fixing its 
roots in India. The establishment of Fort St. George 
in 1640, the grant of Bombay in 1668, and the settle- 
ment of Calcutta in 1698, laid the foundation for the 
extension of its possessions into the interior of Hin- 
dostan, and for that power which rose on the ruins of 
the Moguls empire. But although, towards the con- 
clusion of the seventeenth century, the Company felt 
and avowed that territorial acquisitions were necessary ■ 
for the security of its commerce, its political power in 
India can only be considered to have commenced 
subsequently to the renewal of its charter in 1744. j 
Until that period the military organization of the Cora- j 
pany had been merely defensive, but it soon began to j 
occupy such a situation as made it, to the native powers, i 
an important ally, and no contemptible opponent. We 
cannot here even touch on the onward march of a 
power which now rules over a population of 85,000,000 
natives of India, besides 51,000,000 who are directly 
or indirectly under its control. ! 

Such enormous expenses were incurred by the en- ' 
largement of territory, that the Company was obliged to ' 
petition parliament, in 1773, for relief, in consequence 
of which it obtained a loan of 1,400,000/. for four , 
years ; but, in return for this advance, and for the sum 
of 400,000/. a year, which the Company had engaged ! 
to pay for permission to hold its territories, and which ! 
government engaged, for the time, to forego, parliament , 
took occasion to make considerable changes in its con- 
stitution, and to assume a general regulation of its 
affairs. To render the control of the government over 
the Company's affairs the more efficient, a board of six 
privy councillors was established in 1784, with the duty 
of superintending its territorial concerns, and whose 
approval was made necessary to all its measures. The 
half-yearly inspection of its pecuniary accounts had 
been previously secured to the Treasury by the measure 
of 1773 ; but, on the renewal of the charter in 1813, it 
was directed that the accounts should be laid before 
parliament yearly; and, on the same occasion, the 
trade to India was thrown open to the public under 
certain regulations, while that to China, and the trade in 
tea generally, were reserved exclusively to the Company. 
The important act of August 28, 1833, deprives the 
Company of its remaining commercial privileges, but 
leaves it in possession of the government of the British 
territories in India until 1854. 

Our wood-cut represents the front in Leadenhall 
Street of the East India House. In this building the 
courts are held, and all the official and general business 
transacted. The present edifice was preceded by a 
smaller house, erected in 1726, which only occupied the 
extent of the present east* wing. The inconvenient accom- 
modation which it afforded to tjie augmented business 



of the Company led to the construction of the present 
fabric, which was executed from the designs of Mr. 
Jupp* in the years 1798 and 1799. A portion of the 
interior of the old house was preserved ; but by far the 
greater part was erected from the ground, on the site of 
various buildings which had been purposely taken down. 
The front, composed of stone, is 200 ftet long, and has 
an air of considerable grandeur, principally arising from 
the extent and elevation of its centra] portico, which 
consists of six Ionic columns, fluted, supporting an 
enriched entablature and pediment. The frieze is sculp- 
tured with ornaments, and the pediment exhibits several 
figures emblematical of the commerce of the Company, 
protected by George III., who is represented as extend- 
ing a shield over them. On the apex of the pediment is a 
statue of Britannia, at the east corner a figure of Asia 
seated on a dromedary, and at the west another of Europe 
on a horse. The interior has several noble apartments. 
The Grand Court Room contains a fine bas-relief, in 
white marble, representing Britannia, attended by Fa- 
ther Thames, while three female figures, emblematical 
of India, Asia, and Africa, present their various produc- 
tions. Other principal rooms are adorned with portraits 
and statues of persons who have distinguished themseKe? 
in the Company's service, and with paintings, chiefly of 
Indian scenery. The Library contains an extensive 
collection of Oriental manuscripts, Chinese printed 
books, Indian drawings, and copies of almost every work 
that has been published relative to Asia. The Museum 
abounds with Indian and other Asiatic curiosities of 
much interest, which are well worthy inspection. For 
the purpose of seeing the Museum, a director's order 
must be obtained.. 

THE CAT PAINTER. 

The subject of this paper, Gottfried Mind, was a very 
remarkable man, with one pursuit, — almost with only 
one idea. In the exercise of the one talent which he 
possessed, he was highly distinguished. In most other 
things, his power was not superior to that of ordinary 
men ; in many respects, it was inferior. He was a 
painter of cats ; and, with the exception of bean, which 
he occasionally delineated, he appeared to think that all 
other objects, however beautiful, were unworthy his 
notice. The following account is drawn from the * Bio- 
graphie Universale * and the * Biographie des Con 
temporal ns.' 

This remarkable person was born at Berne, in 
Switzerland, in the year 1768. His father, who sur- 
vived him, was a native of Hungary, but had settled at 
Berne, where he exercised the trade of a joiner. As 
Gottfried manifested a taste for drawing, his father 
placed him with Frudenberger, a clever artist ; but 
who, neglecting or not perceiving Mind's talent for 
design, employed him in colouring his * Sketches of 
Helvetic Customs.' For several years after the death 
of his master, he remained with the widow ; and appears 
to have been kept so constantly to his work that, if he 
possessed the inclination, so little time was allowed him 
tor the -cultivation of his mind, that he was scarcely 
able to write his own name. Nevertheless, he sometimes 
contrived to steal a few moments from his manual 
labour to design children in their gambols and disputes ; 
and he soon learned to group his figures very success- 
fully, in the manner of Frudenberger. We are not in- 
formed how his attention was first directed to the study 
of bears and cats, to which he became devoted *ith 
remarkable exclusiveness, earnestness, and zeal, without 
which the most gifted can seldom attain the objects 
they pursue. The truth and excellence with which 
Mind represented these two species of animals were 
without precedent ; and his drawings of cats, especially, 
were so admirable as to entitle him to the honourable, 
but rather awkward, title of " the Raphael of Cats, ? 



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by which he wis distinguished. No painter before him 
had ever succeeded iu representing, with so much of 
nature and spirit, the mingled humility and fierceness, 
suavity and cunning, which the appearance of this 
animal presents, or the grace of its various postures in 
action or repose. Kittens he particularly delighted to 
represent. He varied, to infinity, their fine attitudes 
whilst at play around the mother ; and represented their 
gambols with inimitable effect. Each of his cats, too, 
had an individual character and expression, and was, in 
fact, a portrait, which seemed animated : the very fur 
appeared so soft and silky as to tempt a caressing stroke 
from the spectator. 

In time, the merit of Mind's performances came to be 
so well understood that travellers made it a point to 
visit him, and to obtain, if possible, his drawings, which 
even sovereigns sought for, and amateurs treasured 
carefully iu their portfolios. But it does not appear 
that popularity had any effect on him, either for good 
or evil, or in any degree modified his simple tastes and 
habits of life. His attachment was unbounded to the 
living animals he delighted to represent. Mind and 
his cats were inseparable. Minette, his favourite cat, 
was always near him when at work ; and he seemed to 
carry on a sort of conversation with her by gestures and 
by words. Sometimes this cat occupied his lap, while 
two or three kittens were perched on each shoulder, 
or reposed in the hollow formed at the back of his 
neck, while sitting in a stooping posture at his table. 
Mind would remain for hours together in this posture 
without stirring, for fear of disturbing the beloved 
companions of his solitude, whose complacent purring 
seemed to him an ample compensation for the incon- 
venience. Not at any time what is called a good- 
humoured man, he was particularly surly if disturbed 
by visiters when thus situated. 

Symptoms of madness having been manifested among 
the cats of Berne in the year 1809, the magistrates gave 
orders for their destruction. Mind exhibited the greatest 
distress when he heard of this cruel mandate. He 
cherished his dear Minette in secret ; but his sorrow for 
the death of 800 cats immolated to the public safety was 
inexpressible, nor was he ever completely consoled. To 
soofbe his regret, and as if to re produce the victims 
with his pencil, he began to paint cats with increased 
diligence, and he amused the long evenings of the en- 
suing winter in cutting chesnuts into the miniature 
figures of bears and cats. These fine trifles were exe- 
cuted with such astonishing address, that, notwithstand- 
ing his dexterity, he was unable to supply the demand 
for (hem. But, being mostly employed as ornaments 
for the mantel-piece, they were soon attacked by worms, 
and there is scarcely reason to expect that any specimens 
of Mind's talents in this line now exist. 

The secondary attachment of Mind was for bears ; 
and he was a frequent visiter to the place . where some 
of these animals were kept by the municipal authorities. 
The artist and the bears soon became well acquainted. 
Tliey ran to meet him whenever they saw him approach, 
and received, with very sensible demonstrates of at- 
tachment and gratitude, the bread and fruit wmi which 
he always came provided. 

Next to cats and bears, the greatest pleasure of Gott- 
fried Mind consisted in examining works of art in which 
these or other animals were represented. They might 
be introduced as very subordinate figures, but he seemed 
quite insensible to any other beauties or defects which 
the performance might contain, and formed his opinion 
solely with a view to the animals represented. He was 
hard to please. No perfection in a picture could atone 
for want of spirit in representing animals, particularly 
cats and hears. He had then no mercy to show. But 
when he found a work which met his ideas, hours and 
even days of study hardly sufficed to satisfy him. 



Mind was short of stature, with a very large head, in 
which his eyes were deeply sunk. His complexion 
was of a ruddy brown ; his voice hollow and rattling, 
which, joined to a sombre physiognomy, had a repulsive 
effect upon those who saw and heard him for the first 
time. His death took place at Berne, November 8th, 
1814. 



BOOKS IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 

Thk orders which relate to books in the 'Close Roils ' 
of this period are interesting, not only as illustrating 
the literary taste of the age, but principally because 
they generally contain some circumstance which shows 
the scarcity and value of the article. It was not until 
a period considerably subsequent to the invention of 
printing, that the cost and rarity of books ceased to 
obstruct the advancement of learning and the diffusion 
of knowledge. We may quote the statement of Henry, 
in his ' History of Great Britain,' that, in the middle 
ages, " None but great kings, princes, and prelates, 
universities and monasteries, could have libraries ; and 
the libraries of the greatest kings were not equal to 
those of many private geutlemen or country clergymen 
in the present age. The Royal Library of France, 
which had been collected by Charles V., VI., and VII., 
and kept with great care in one of the towers 4>f the 
Louvre, consisted of about 900 volumes, and was pur- 
chased by the Duke of Bedford, a.d. 1425, for 1200 
livres. From a catalogue of that library still extant, it 
appears to have been chiefly composed of legends, his- 
tories, romances, and books on astrology, geomancy, 
and chiromancy, which were the favourite studies of 
those times. The kings of England were not so well 
provided with books. Henry V., who had a taste for 
reading, borrowed several books, which were claimed by 
their owners after his death. The Countess of West- 
moreland presented a petition to the Privy Council, 
a.d. 1424, representing, that the late king had bor- 
rowed a book from her, containing the ' Chronicles of 
Jerusalem,' and the * Expedition of Godfrey of Bou- 
logne;' and praying that an order might be given, 
under the privy seal, for the restoration of the said 
book. This order was granted with great formality. 
About the same time, John, the prior of Christ Church, 
Canterbury, presented a similar petition to the Privy 
Council, setting forth, that the king had borrowed from 
his priory a volume containing the works of St. Gregory ; 
that he had never returned it ; but that, in his testa- 
ment, he had directed it to be restored ; notwithstanding 
which, the prior of Shine, who had the book, refused to 
give it up. The Council, after mature deliberation, 
commanded a precept, under the privy seal, to l>e sent 
to the Prior of Shine, requiring him to deliver up the 
book, or to appear before the Council to give the 
reasons of his refusal. These facts sufficiently prove 
that it must have been very difficult, or rather im- 
possible, for the generality of scholars to procure a com- 
petent number of books." The extreme costliness of 
the article rendered it no less difficult to borrow books 
than to buy them. To illustrate this, the same writer, 
iu another part of his work, quotes from Comines the 
fact, that Louis XI. was obliged to deposit a con- 
siderable quantity of plate, and to get one of his nobility 
to join with him in a bond under a high penalty to 
return it, before he could procure the loan of one 
volume, which may now be purchased for a few shil- 
lings. 

In a Close Roll, dated 29th of March, 1209, King 
John writes to the Abbot of Reading to acknowledge 
that lie had received, by the hands of the sacrist of 
Reading, six volumes of books, containing the whole of 
the Old Testament. The receipt is also acknowledged 
of * Master Hugh de St. Victorie's Treatise oh the Sa- 



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crament ;' the ( Sentences of Peter the Lombard* ;' the 

• Epistles of St. Augustine, on the City of God and on 
the Third Part of the Psalter ;' * Valerian de Moribus ;' 

* Origen's Treatise on the Old Testament ;' and * Candi- 
dus Arianus to Maiius.' The following month, (he king 
wrote to the same abbot to acknowledge the receipt of 
his copy of Pliny, which the abbot had in his custody. 

In 1249 King Henry III. orders Edward, the son of 
Otho of Westminster, to cause to be purchased certain 
church-service books, and to give them to the consta- 
ble of Windsor Castle, that he might deliver them by 
his own hand to the officiating chaplains in the new cha- 
pel at Windsor, to be used by them ; and they were then 
to be held responsible to the constable for " this library," 
consisting of eight books. Another Close Roll of the 
same king, dated 1250, commands Brother R. de San- 
ford, Master of the Knights of the Temple in England, 
to allow Henry of the Wardrobe, the bearer, to have 
for the queen's use a certain great book which was in 
their house at London, written in the French dialect, 
containing * The Exploits of Antiochia, and of the 
Kings, and others/ This work was probably a French 
translation of a Latin heroic Poem, entitled ' The War 
of Antioch, or the Third Crusade of Richard I.,' writ- 
ten by Joseph of Exeter, otherwise called Josephus 
Iscanus ; and was perhaps wanted by the queen to elu- 
cidate the paintings in the " Antioch Chamber." It 
is observable that all the books mentioned in these Rolls 
are either in the Latin or French language. Indeed 
no English literature at that time existed, if we except 
some metrical chronicles and romances, chiefly trans 
lations, of a very marvellous character, a few of whicl 
have, of late years, been printed from MSS. still extant 



' SWIFTNESS OF THE OSTRICH. 

The bird most celebrated for fleetness of running is th< 
ostrich, or bird camel (Struthio Came/?/*), as it maj 
well be named. " What time she lifteth up herself or 
high," says Job, " she scorneth the horse and his ridert. , 
According to Dr. Shaw, the wings serve her both foi 
sails and oars, whilst her feet, which have only two toes 
and are not unlike the camel's, can bear great fatigue 
Though the ostrich is universally admitted to go fastei 
than the fleetest horse, yet the Arabs on horseback con- 
trive to run these birds down, their feathers being valu- 
able, and their flesh not to be despised. The best horse* 
are trained for this chase. When the hunter has started 
his ^ime, he puts his horse upon a gentle gallop, so as 
to keep the ostrich in sight, without coming too near tc 
alarm it and put it to its full speed. Upon observing 
itself pursued, therefore, it begins to run at first bu( 
gently, its wings like two arms keeping alternate motion 
with its feet. It seldom runs in a direct line ; but, like 
the hare, doubles, or rather courses in a circular man- 
ner ; while the hunters, taking the diameter or tracing 
a smaller circle, meet the bird at unexpected turns, and 
with less fatigue to the horses. This chase is often con- 
tinued for a day or two, when the poor ostrich is starved 
out and exhausted, and finding all power of escape im- 
possible, it endeavours to hide itself from the enemies 
it cannot avoid, running into some thicket, or burying 
its head in the sand : the hunters then rush in at full 
speed, leading as much as possible against the wind, 
and kill the bird with clubs, lest the feathers should be 
soiled with blood. 

M. Adanson saw two tame ostriches which had been 
kept two years at the factory of Podor, on the south 
bank of the Niger. " They were so tame," he says, 

• One of the clan of writers known as the " Schoolmen." This 
work obtained him the title of " the Master of the Sentence*." 
Both he and Hugh de St. Victorie lived in the preceding century. 
The wit «re old Latin authors. 

t Job mix. 18. 



" that two little blacks mounted both together on the 
back of the largest : no sooner did he feel their weight, 
than he began to run as fast as ever he could, till he car- 
ried them several times round the village ; and it was im- 
possible to stop him, otherwise than by obstructing the 
passage. This sight pleased me so well, that I would 
have it repeated : and to try their strength, I made a 
full-grown negro mount the smallest, and two others 
the largest. This burden did not seem to me at all dis- 
proportioned to their strength. At first they went a 
moderate gallop ; when they were heated a little they 
expanded their wings as if it were to catch the wind, and 
they moved with such fleetness that they seemed to be off 
the ground. Everybody must some time or other have 
seen a partridge run, consequently must know there is 
no man whatever able to keep up with it; and it is easy 
to imagine that if this bird had a longer step, its speed 
would be considerably augmented. The ostrich moves 
like the partridge, with both these advantages ; and I 
am satisfied that those I am speaking of would have 
distanced the fleetest race-horses that were ever bred in 
England. It is true they would not hold out so long 
as a horse ; but without all doubt they would be able to 
perform the race in less time. I have frequently beheld 
this sight, which is capable of giving one an idea of 
the prodigious strength of an ostrich, and of showing 
what use it might be of, had we but the method of 
breaking it and managing it as we do a horse*.' 1 

The traveller, Moore, mentions that he saw a man 
journeying- mounted upon an ostrich : thouch both this 



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THE WHITE STORK. 



[The Stork.] 



This tall and stately bird (Ciconia alba), although 
a visiter of the continent of Europe, from the north of 
Spain to Prussia, and particularly common in Holland, 
is only seen in this country as exhibited in menageries. 
It was once, however, common ; and its al^fct com- 
plete extinction here is one of the many evidences of the 
changes which man produces by the operations of his 
9 industry. The marshy grounds, which formerly existed 
to a great extent in England, have been drained and 
cultivated. One or two solitary storks have been shot 
v iu this country during the present century. The bird 
X^renerally stands from three-and-a-half to four feet high, 
irtejuding the long neck. The feet are webbed, and the 
legs "are exceedingly long, and do not appear of a*thick- 
ness commensurate to the bulk they sustain. The neck 

also of great length ; and the beak is straight, long, 
pomted^and compressed. The stork walks slowly, and 
with measared^steps^^iaut its flight is poW^rfuKaW 
long continued7an<t it isE ccuatum c d ttrtmeree tpe 

Voj., Ill, 



higher, regions of the air. The stork represented in 
our wood-cut is an adult male, copied, by permission, 
from Mr. Gould's splendid work on the * Birds of 
Europe/ This beautiful publication, in its design and 
execution, is as creditable to the country as to its 
author. 

Storks are birds of passage. They spend the winter 
in the deserts of Africa and Arabia, and in summer 
return to towns and villages in colder latitudes, where 
they build their nests on the summits of old towers and 
belfries, on the chimnies of the highest houses, and 
sometimes in dead trees. In marshy districts, where 
the services -of the bird in destroying reptiles are of 
peculiar value, the people frequently fix an old cart- 
wheel, by the nave, in an horizontal position, to the 
extremity of a strong perpendicular pole ; — an accom- 
modation which seems so very eligible to the birds, 
that they rarely fail to construct thefr capacious habita- 
tions on such platforms The nest is a large cylindrical 

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structure, buUfe**0' strongly and durably with sticks^ 
twigs, *r*Htrong reeds; and lined on the inside with 
fine dry herbs, mosses, and down fathered from the 
bushes. These fabrics last many years, and to them 
the faithful couples yearly direct their unerring course, 
from far distant regions, to deposit their eggs, and 
rear their young. 

The eggs in a nest vary in number ; not less than 
two, and seldom exceeding four. The female covers 
these with the most tender solicitude. Instances are 
recorded in which she has rather chosen to die than 
resign her charge. Au affecting incident of this 
nature occurred on the day of the " memorable battle of 
Friedland," as related by M. Bory de St. Vincent, in 
an article of the c Encyclopedic Moderne.' A farm in 
the neighbourhood of the city was set on fire by the 
falling of a bomb, and the conflagration extended to 
an old. dry tree on which a pair of storks had built 
their nest. It was then the season of incubation, and 
the mother would not quit the nest until it was com- 
pletely enveloped in flame. She then flew up perpen- 
dicularly ; and, when she had attained to a great height, 
dashed down into the midst of the fire, as if endeavouring 
to rescue the precious deposit from destruction. In one 
of these descents, enveloped in fire and smoke, she fell 
into the midst of the burning embers, and perished. 

This constancy during the period of incubation is 
succeeded by the most assiduous care in the rearing of 
the young. The parents never lose sight of them. 
While one of the two is abroad in search of serpents, 
lizards, frogs, or snails, the other remains in charge of 
the nest. When the young have acquired strength and 
vigour, it is highly interesting to observe the tender 
couple assist them in their first career through the air. 
The progeny are said to repay this care and kindness, 
when the parents are old and feeble, by supporting 
their wkigs, when weary, in the long flights of their 
migration. But though it be true that the weak and 
old are thus assisted by the vigorous and young, we 
have no means of knowing that the assistants are the 
progeny of the assisted. The parents and the young 
continue to live together until the season of migration. 
For about a fortnight previous to that event, all the 
storks of the district assemble frequently in some neigh- 
bouring plain, and appear to hold a council to determine 
the destination, and the time of departure. 

When they at length take their departure, the flocks 
orJ^ene rally of great extent, and vary much in com- 
pactness. They are sometimes, according to Dr. Shaw, 
half a mile in breadth, and take three hours in passing. 
As they have no voice, their course is usually unattended 
by any noise but that of their wings ; but, when any- 
thing occurs to startle them, or engage their attention, 
they make an extraordinary clattering noise, which may 
lie heard to a great distance, by striking the mandibles 
quickly and forcibly together. By their migrations, 
they enjoy at all times a nearly equal temperature; 
avoiding those severe seasons in which the reptiles 
that form their food remain hid and torpid during a 
considerable part of the year. 

There is a peculiar interest attached to this bird, from 
the efficient protection which, in all ages and countries, 
it has received from man. In ancient Egypt it was a 
capital crime to kill a stork ; and there, and elsewhere, 
its safety and existence are still defended by penal laws. 
Indeed, there is, perhaps, np country which it is ac- 
customed to visit where its death woultLiiot be avenged, 
either by legal penalties or popular indignation. This 
protection is, doubtless, in some measure owing to 
the amiable dispositions it exhibits; but must chiefly 
be attributed to the importance of its services in destroy- 
ing the reptiles'which abound in the districts that it 
usually frequents. The protection it receives is returned 
by the confidence with which the stork constructs its 



[Marcp a, 



domicile in the midst of the most densely populated 
cities, and views from it the near approach of man 
without alarm. 

In Bagdad, and some other of the more remote cities 
of Asiatic Turkey, the nests of storks present a very 
remarkable appearance. The minars y or towers of the 
mosques, at Constantinople, and most other parts of 
Turkey, are tall, round pillars, surmounted by a very 
pointed cone ; but at Bagdad, the absence of this cone 
enables these birds to build their nests upon the 
summit ; and as the diameter of the nest generally 
corresponds with that of the minar, it appears as a part 
of it, and a regular termination to it. The curious 
effect is not a little increased by the appearance of the 
bird itself in the nest, which thus, as part of the body 
and its long neck are seen above the edge, appears 
the crowning object of the pillar. The Turks hold the 
bird in more than even the usual esteem, which may he 
partly attributed to its gesticulations, which they suppose 
to resemble some of their own attitudes of devotion. 
Their name for the stork is Hadji Lug-!tt$ : the former 
word, which is the honorary title of a pilgrim, it owes 
to its annual migrations, and its apparent attachment 
to their sacred edifices. The latter portion of the 
denomination, " lug-lug," is an attempt to imitate the 
noise which the biwf makes. The regard of the Turks 
is so far understood and returned by the intelligent 
stork, that, in cities of mixed population, it rarely or 
never builds its nest on any other than a Turkish house 
The Rev. J. Hartley, hi his ' Researches in Greece and 
the Levant,' remarks :— " The Greeks have carried 
their antipathy to the Turks to such a pitch, that they 
have destroyed all the storks iu the country. On in- 
quiring the reason, I was informed * The stork is a 
Turkish bird : it never used to boild its nest on the 
house of a Greek, but always on that of a Turk !' The 
tenderness which the Turks display towards the feathered 
tribe is indeed a pleasing trait in their character. ' 



THE LABOURER8 OF EUROPE— No. IX. 

ThwPbasawtry of tk* Alps.— Savoy. 
The vast chain, or rather chains of the Alps, with their j 
numerom. ramifications, enclose several" extensive coun- 
tries inhabited by various races. The principal ones 
are Savoy, Switzerland, the Orisons, the Tyrol, and 
several valleys on the Italian side of the mountains. 
Throughout all these countries the great outline? of the 
landscape are much alike ; but the soil, the climate, and 
the produefs of the several districts are greatly varied, 
as well as the habits, character, and institutions of the 
people. We shall devote a separate sketch to each of 
these great divisions of the Alpine system. 

Savoy is situated on the western slope of tho Alps 
which divide it from Italy. Another offset of the same 
mountains divides it on the south from France, from 
which country it is likewise separated to the west by 
the river Rhone and another ridge%hich is an offset 
of the^pra. Savoy is neither French nor Italian; it is 
geographically connected more properly with Switzer- 
land. Its inhabitants speak among themselves a nathe 
dialect ; most of them, however, know French also, and 
all educated jpcople speak it fluently and correctly. 
The country has been for nerfrry eight hundred years 
under the dominion of the Hotfs* of Savoy, who were 
at first lords or counts of one of its valleys called Mau- 
rienne, and who by degrees subjected or inherited the 
remainder from the other feudal lords of the country. 
When, afterwards, the dukes of Savoy, having acquired 
fine and extensive provinces on the Italian side of the 
Alps, transferred the!* residence to Turin, where they 
at last assumed the title of Kings of Sardinia, Savoy 
remained a province of the monarchy with the title of 
duchy. 



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The eastern part of Savoy consists of deep valleys 
embedded in the highest Alps* which follow the Course 
of the rivers that issue from the main ridge, and 
afterwards flow into the Rhone. The three principal 
of these valleys are Faucigny, Tarentaise, and Mauri- 
en ne. Each of these constitutes a proyince, and con- 
tains towns and villages. The northernmost province, 
called Chablais, is likewise very mountainous, but it 
opens to the lake of Geneva, of which it forms the 
southern coast. The western part of Savoy is more 
level, and the people are chiefly employed in agricul- 
ture. But in the great valleys, the rearing of cattle is 
the chief resource of the inhabitants. The whole popu- 
lation of Savoy is about half a million. 

Besides the nobility, which is numerous but not rich, 
there are three classes of people in Savoy. First, the 
bourgeois, or citizens, who are freemen of the different 
towns, and who are generally proprietors, having a 
sufficient income to live upon. The bourgeoisie or free- j 
doni may be purchased under certain conditions ; the 
purchase money goes to the support of the hospitals 
and other public uses, and part of it serves to defray the 
expense of a civic feast on the reception of the new 
member. The second class consists of farmers, whether 
tenants or proprietors, cultivating their own land ; they 
live frugally, but are generally comfortable. The third 
class is composed of artisans and journeymen labourers: 
the former are mostly foreigners or sons of foreigners, 
and they are well employed and paid, but the agricul- 
tural labourers are generally poor, and live wretchedly. 
It is from this class that travellers derive their 
notions of the misery of Savoy. And yet they are 
not all so very distressed. A labourer receives from 
1*. to 1*. 3d. per day, and half the amount if he is 
boarded. A carpenter or wheelwright has two francs, 
or It. 84. a day. With these wages he can purchase 
sufficient wholesome food for himself and family, ac- 
cording to the frugal manner in which they live. But 
then he has to deduct about seventy days in the year, 
consisting of Sundays and other holidays, as he is paid 
by the day. Again, during part of the winter he either 
has no employment or works at reduced wages. These 
difficulties induce many to emigrate. The convents at 
one time supplied food to the poor, but the convents 
have been suppressed, and no provision has beeji made j 
for the poor in lieu of them. The farmers who tenant 
the lands of the wealthier proprietors, especially in the \ 
lowlands and near the towns* are either granger^ (ano- 1 
ther word for metayer*) % who deliver one-half of the ' 
produce to the proprietor, mostly in kind, which the ' 
latter sells in the market, or tacheun, who are remove- 
able at the end of every year, and who give the pro- 
prietor four-fifths of the corn, half the wine, and half) 
the produce of the dairy. Leases are generally for 
three years only. 

The inhabitants of the mountains are more comfort- 
able than those of the lower valleys or plains of western 
Savoy. This is» owing to the rich pastures which the 
Alps spontaneously afford. The riches of a mountain 
peasant are estimated by the number of cows he can 
keep during the wiqff r,jpr he must have sufficient land 
to supply them with fodder wTiile they are kept in the 
stables. A man having twenty-five cows is considered 
wealthy. Many peasants have meadows, and rude 
habitations called chalet% made of logs of wood. In 
winter they live at the bottom of the valley where their 
principal residence is, comprising the dwelling-room 
for their family and stabling for their cattle, often in 
the same building, divided by a partition. The neigh- 
bourhood of the cattle contributes to the warmth of 
the house. In the spring, they ascend gradually as 
the heat pushes out vegetation and the snow retires 
from the ground. In the autumn, they descend by the 
same gradations. 



I There are three sorts of natural pastures : the highest 
ones, which are only for the summer months, and are 
mostly common land; those lower down 'the sides of 
the mountains, which are generally excellent, many 
affording three annual crops of grass, and which might 
be further improved by artificial irrigation; and the 
lowest ones, which are at the bottom, and are mostly 
marshy and chill. The less wealthy peasants find a 
great resource in the common pastures, to which they 
send as many cows as they can afford to keep in the 
winter, for that is the main consideration. The poor, 
who have no meadows to supply fodder for the winter 
months, cannot avail themselves of the common pasture 
lands. Eight days after the cows have been driven up 
into the common pasture, all the owners assemble, and 
the quantity of milk gi\en by each cow is weighed. 
The same operation is repeated one day in the middle 
of the summer, and again at the end of the season ; and 
then the quantity of cheese and butter, which is made in 
common at the chalet or dairy, is divided" according to 
the quantity of milk each cow yielded on the days of 
trial. There are also public dairies in some of the vil- 
lages, where the poorer peasants may bring all the 
milk they can spare from their daily use. The milk 
being measured, an account is kept of it, and at the 
end of the season a proportionate quantity of cheese is 
delivered to each, after a deduction for the cost of 
making it. 

Not many large flocks of sheep are kept in the val- 
leys of Savoy, as they require to be housed during the 
winter, when they are fed chiefly upon dried leaves of 
trees. Poor families keep a few sheep to supply them 
with wool for their domestic use. " These little flocks 
ase driven home every evening, generally accompanied 
by a goat or a cow, a pig, and an ass, and followed by a 
young girl spinning with a distaff. As they wind down 
the lower slopes of the mountains they form the most 
picturesque groups for the pencil of the painter, and 
carry back the imagination to the ages of pastoral sim- 
plicity sung by Theocritus and Virgil *." 

Emigration during winter is general among the 
poorer peasantry of the higher valleys. The men leave 
their homes in the autumn, and proceed to France or 
Italy in quest of work, while their wives take care of 
the house, and spin and weave during the long winter 
evenings, for they make all their clothing at home. At 
the beginning of spring the men return to work in the 
fields or drive the cattle up the Alps. The younger 
emigrants wander farther, and remain sometimes absent 
for years ; they proceed to Lyons and Paris, where 
they find employment as chimney-sweepers, shoe-blacks, 
hawkers, and errand-boys (cojnmtitionahe*), and are 
to be seen at the comers of the streets of the French 
metropolis, where they bear an excellent character for 
honesty and sobriety. There is a difference remarked 
between the emigrants of the different valleys. Those 
from the Maurienne, which is the poorest, are the most 
numerous and also the humblest in their vocations ; they 
are chiefly chimney-sweepers or shoe-blacks ; those from 
Tarantasia are more aspiring, for although they begin 
by the same callings, they often raise themselves in 
some branch of trade ; and many have established houses 
in various parts of France. The emigrants of Fau- 
cigny are mostly carpenters and stone- masons. They 
possess much mechanical ingenuity, and are the best 
informed among the mountaineers of Savoy.- The best 
hunters of chamois are also to be met in Faucigny ; 
and they follpw that dangerous sport with an ardour 
extinguished only by death. The people of Faucigny 
export cattle, cheese, butter, flax, and honey, — which 
last is very much esteemed. Those of Maurienne and 
Tarantasia export likewise cattle and mules to Pied- 
mont and to France: they supply the markets of Turiu 
* Bakeweir* ' Kewdence in Tarantasia/ 

N 2 



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with butcheis* meat, hides, gutter, and cheese. Most 
of the cheese, called of Mont Cenis, and somewhat re- 
sembling Stilton, is made in the Maurienne. The 
cheese of Tarantasia resembles the well-known Swiss 
cheese called Gruyere. The people live chiefly on the 
produce of their dairies : they eat rye-bread, or cakes 
made of oatmeal and rye, which are baked twice in the 
year, chestnuts, and now and then a piece of salt meat. 
The land in Tarantasia is more productive than in the 
Maurienne or Faucigny ; the valley is better sheltered 
from the north winds ; and fruit-trees, the vine, barley, 
and buck-wheat, are cultivated there to the very foot of 
the little St. Bernard. Accordingly, the peasants of 
Tarantasia are more comfortable than their neigh- 
bours ; their houses are better built, and kept cleaner 
than those of the Maurienne. Tarantasia is rich in 
minerals. The lead and silver mines of Pesci and 
Macot are worked on account of the government. They 
give employment to 600 persons of both sexes. A 
school of mineralogy has been established at Montiers, 
the head town of Tarantasia. The salt-pits, near 
Montiers, furnish another branch of industry. There 
are mineral-springs at La Perrier, which begin to be 
frequented by strangers, and also at Bonneval, near the 
foot of the highest Alps. The people of Tarantasia are 
peaceable, honest, and hospitable. The attachment of 
the Savoyards to their native mountains is a feeling 
which lasts for their whole lives. In almost every little 
town or village there are gifts left by natives, who, after 
many years 7 residence in distant countries, have returned 
in their advanced age. It is in the churches chiefly that 
such gifts are seen, for the Savoyards are a religious 
people, though not superstitious. 

Marriages in these mountains are attended with 
much festivity and ceremony. When a young man is 
first admitted to spend the evening at the house of a 
maid to whom he wishes to pay his addresses, he 
watches the arrangement of the fire-place, where several 
billets of wood are blazing. If the fair one lifts up one 
of the billets and places it upright against the side of 
the fire-place, it is a sign she does not approve of her 
suitor. If she leaves the blazing wood undisturbed, the 
young man may be sure of her consent. The prelimi- 
naries of the contract are soon arranged. The bride- 
groom makes a present to his betrothed as a pledge of 
his sincerity, and the following Saturday the contract is 
signed. At the marriage festival, twenty-four hours are 
passed in rejoicings, for this is the most important event 
in the life of these simple mountaineers. The parish 
church, often at a great distance from the various 
hamlets scattered on the mountain-sides, is the only 
place of meeting in these districts. There, once a 
week, the various families see each other's faces. After 
a week's separation from all the rest of mankind, 
amidst wild solitudes where nothing is heard but the 
noise of the torrent and the roar of the storm, the 
sound of the church-bell has a*peculiar charm, and the 
meeting at church is a real festival. Accordingly, the 
Savoyards take particular care of their churches ; which, 
even in the poorest and most mountainous parishes, are 
neat, and often handsome, and kept in good repair, 
whilst their own habitations are rudely constructed, and 
often dilapidated. 

LEONARDO DA VINCI. 

Leonardo da Vinci was born in the castle of Vinci, 
near Florence, in the year 1452. He ^s the illegiti- 
mate son of a person of noble descent, who exercised 
the profession of a notary. It appears that young 
Leonardo #oon began to exhibit powers of mind and 
personal endowments, which his father contemplated 
with pride and satisfaction, and took the proper mea- 
sures to cultivate. He was handsome, well-formed, 



and possessed of great bodily strength ; and to his phy- 
sical accomplishments he joined at a very early period 
an extraordinary inclination for the arts and sciences. 
Not content to excel in fencing, horsemanship, dancing, 
and music, he had in early youth acquired a consider- 
able knowledge, of mathematics, natural science, philo- 
sophy, and the various branches of. literature. The 
zeal and success with which he applied himself to such 
miscellaneous pursuits did not impair his taste for 
painting ; which, indeed, so predominated, ' that hu 
family placed him as a student with Andrea Verocchio, 
in whose school he found Pietro Perugino, the future 
master of Raphael. Under Verocchio, Leonardo made 
so rapid a progress, that he soon surpassed his master, 
who was at first charmed with his pupil, but at last 
became jealous of him. 

After this event, Leonardo remained sufficiently long 
at Florence to establish a reputation, and acquire con- 
fidence in his own powers. He possessed great talents, 
profound skill, and a discerning judgment ; to these he 
added untiring industry and continued perseverance. 
To these latter qualities he of course owes much of his 
fame ; he was all his life a learner ; and, in his pecu- 
liar art, always on the watch to seize and appropriate 
the hints which the observation of nature supplied. 

In the year 1489, Leonardo went to Milan to execute 
an equestrian statue, which the Duke Ludovico Sforza 
intended to erect to his father. His many accomplish- 
ments and professional merits procured him a distin- 
guished reception from the prince, whose subsequent 
strong attachment to Leonardo was equally honourable 
to himself and the artist. He was appointed Director 
of the Academy of Painting and Architecture, whkh 
his patron had founded. The period of Leonardo's 
stay at Milan was probably the happiest of his life: 
he possessed the confidence and esteem of the duke ; 
his supremacy in art was unquestioned ; and the in- 
tervals of his severer studies, as a sculptor, painter, 
engineer, and mechanist, were solaced with music, 
poetry, and literature. It seems uncertain whether he 
ever completed the statue of the Duke Francesco. 
He made a model ; but on a scale so exceedingly co- 
lossal that it was deemed impracticable to cast it in 
bronze. Leonardo himself said the work was so great 
that he might labour all his life without bringing it 
to a completion. It is affirmed, however, that he did 
finish it ; but that, with the model, it was destroyed in 
the revolution of 1499. Its height is said to have been 
seventy-two feet, and the weight two hundred thousand 
pounds. 

In the list of the undertakings performed by Leo- 
nardo at Milan, there are several by which the versa- 
tility of his talents is indicated. As an engineer, he 
triumphed over difficulties which had been considered 
insurmountable, by effecting a junction between the 
canals of Martesana and Ticino; and his mechanical 
skill was exhibited by several ingenious machines and 
automatons, which our limits do not permit us to par- 
ticularize. His pencil was not unemployed at Milan, 
for it was there that, among other works, he painted 
the famous picture of the :" Last Supper," in the 
refectory of 4he DomimVarivS^he express order of 
the duke. This splendid monument of the genius of 
Leonardo da Vinci is copied in our wood-cut, which 
will convey to our readers some idea of the arrangement 
and general character of the performance, in speaking 
of which we cannot do better than quote the description 
and opinion of another great painter, Rubens. a The 
best example of his genius which Leonardo has left us 
is the ' Last Supper.' In this picture he has re- 
presented the Apostles in places suitable to them : but 
our Saviour is in the midst of all ; in the most honour- 
able place, with no figure near enough to press or in- 
commode him. His attitude is grave, wkh the arms 



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in a loose and free posture, to show the greater gran- 
deur ; while the apostles appear agitated by the vehe- 
ment desire to know which among them is he who will 



betray his master; in which agitation, however, no 
mean or indecent action can be observed. In short, 
by profound thought, Leonardo had arrived to such a 



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degree of perfection that it seems impossible to speak 
as^hiffhly of him as he deserves, and much more im- 
possible to imitate him." 

When Leonardo undertook this his great work, he 
commenced with the Apostles, employing on them all 
that his genius suggested to make the expression perfect. 
But when he came to the person of Christ, he could find 
nothing so much superior to the character of the other 
heads as to represent worthily the sublime idea he hail 
conceived of the Son of God ; and, in consequence, in 
all the subsequent period of his life, it was never finished 
by him. It was only a sketch when he died. This 
anecdote recalls that of the ancient painter, who ex-^ 
pressed by a veil the grief of Agamemnon, which he 
despaired of representing. The head of Judas was also 
left for a considerable time unfinished, from the difficulty 
the artist experienced in expressing that combination of 
malign dispositions which he wished to exhibit in hit 
countenance. The deficiency is said to have been thus 
supplied : — the prior of the convent, a hard and harsh 
man, being displeased at the delay, complained to the 
duke on the subject, who spoke somewhat sharply 
about it to the artist, and he, to be revenged, drew an 
exact likeness of the prior in the person of the traitorous 
apostle. 

In connexion with this picture, we find, in the 
' Biographie Universelle, , an anecdote worth relating. 
When Bonaparte, at that time general of the French 
army in Italy, visited, in 1796, the hall of the church of 
14 S. Maria delle Grazie," and saw there the " Last 
Supper " of Leonardo da Vinci, he immediately wrote 
upon his knee an order of the day to the effect thai 
this place should not be employed to lodge the military. 
After the departure of the French army, the refectory 
was used alternately as a granary and a stable; but 
when Eugene Beauharnois became viceroy of Italy, he 
directed the place to be thoroughly cleaned out and set 
in order, and that a sort of platform should be raised to 
enable the spectator to view the picture more nearly. 

Leonardo remained at Milan, after that city had 
been taken by the French under Louis XII., who 
treated the artist with much consideration. But he was 
induced, by the subsequent events of the war, to return 
to Florence, where he found Michael Angelo exercising 
his profession with great reputation and success. The 
rivalry and bitter feeling which arose between them is 
much to be regretted ; and it is asserted that Michael 
Angelo did not treat the venerable artist with that 
consideration to which he was entitled. The result 
of this rivalry was a trial of skill between them, 
Leonardo painting a cartoon representing the defeat of 
Nicolo Piccinino, one of the greatest generals of Italy; 
and Michael Angelo another, which had for its subject 
an epi'wde in the siege of Pisa by the Florentines. 
Such high excellence was exhibited in both these per- 
formances, that good judges hesitated to say to which 
the preference was due. But when it is considered that 
Leonardo was then an aged man, while Michael Angelo 
was in the prime of life, it was surely a sufficient praise 
to say of the former that he was not overcome. These 
cartoons were destroyed in the wars of which Lombardy 
was long the theatre; but though materials still exist 
for instituting a comparison between these two very 
eminent painters, we can only here state that Leonardo 
certainly possessed inventive power in a more eminent 
degree, while, in the universality of his talents, perhaps 
few men in any age have surpassed him. We can un- 
derstand and sympathize in the feeling which provoked 
him to say to his rival, " I was already famous before 
you existed." 

The disagreement with Michael Angelo made the 
residence W Leonardo at Florence so uncomfortable, 
that he was glad of an opportunity of going to Rome 
with GiuUano dV Medici, who was proceeding to that 



city to assist at the coronation of his brother Leo X. 
It seems, however, that the pontifThad been prejudiced 
against the illustrious author of the " Last Supper," the 
slow and scrupulous execution of which he criticised 
with much affectation. It is related that the pope went 
one day to visit the great artist, and found him busily 
occupied in some chemical processes, the object of 
which was to obtain a new kind of varnish. "This 
man," remarked Leo, " never finishes anything, he- 
cause he thinks about the end of his work before it is 
begun." In this observation there would have been 
some truth if one who laboured for immortality could 
be too careful and exact. Leonardo was certainly slow 
in finishing his works ; for his object was less to do 
much than to do well. 

Discouraged by his cold reception at Rome, Leo- 
nardo returned to Florence, and proceeded from I hence 
to Parma and Milan, where he listened to the proposals 
of Francis I., and towards the end of 1515 decided on 
proceeding to France. The king, then at Fontaine- 
bleatt, gave him the most honourable reception, and 
lodged him at the palace of Amboise, where he remained 
until his death, which took place on the 2nd of May, 
1519. It is commonly said that he expired on the 
bosom of the king ; but as the court was at that time 
at St Germain's, an expression to that effect in the 
epitaph of Leonardo probably means no more than a 
figurative allusion to his death under the friendly roof 
of Francis I. 

MEHMANDARS. 

Strangers of any consideration travelling in Persia are 
furnished with an officer called a mehmandar, whose 
business it is to provide for their accommodation on the 
road. The rank and authority of the mehmandar varies 
with the consideration due to the party he attends. 
Princes of the royal blood 4iave acted as mehmandeis io 
English embassies. Of whatever rank however, these 
officers are armed with very great powers, which, as 
they are seldom moderately exercised, are very ob- 
noxious to the people, and, in frequented roads, press 
heavily on their resources. They are authorized to 
claim for themselves, and the parties they escort, food 
ready dressed, and provender for the cattle ; they can 
oblige the most respectable inhabitants to vacate their 
own houses for the reception of the strangers ; and they 
possess, or at least exercise, the power of making the 
people give them such horses as they fancy, in the place 
of their own. For all this, so far is any payment from 
being made, that the poor people may think them- 
selves happy if the mehmandar does not exert his for- 
midable powers in extorting money from them, either 
with or without a pretext. The consequence of this 
system is, that some of the finest villages in the empire, 
placed in the most eligible and fruitful situations which 
it affords, are soon depopulated if much exposed to 
such visits, as the inhabitants then forsake their plea- 
sant homes for more remote situations. 

The first occasion which the writer of this article had 
of becoming acquainted with a mehmandar was on 
leaving the fortified town of Shousha in the Karabaui;h, 
when the Russian commandant appointed a Tartar 
mehmandar to accompany his party to the Persian 
frontier. The conductor thus supplied was a fine 
young man, well mounted, splendidly dressed, and 
fiercely armed. As during this part of the journey 
there were few or no villages, and we uniformly en- 
camped in the open air, usually near some riser, the 
services of this mehmandar presented no such ob- 
noxious circumstances as we have mentioned ; but 
were limited to regulating the order and direction of 
our march, to indicating eligible situations for the mid- 
day halt, or the evening encampment, and to furnish- 
ing information concerning the various objects wo saw. 



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He accompanied us to the Persian side of the Araxes, 
and, being then gratified with a pecuniary present, and 
with a certificate that his behaviour Hrid been satis- 
factory, and that he had conducted us safely to the 
appointed place, left us to prosecute alone our journey 
through Azerbijan. 

When we left Tabreez, the capital 6f that province, 
another mehmandar was appointed to attend our party 
to the Turkish frontier. This person was entirely dif- 
ferent both in conduct and personal appearance from 
the former. He was an older man, not so well dressed 
or mounted, the ]>ossessdt of a very fine beard, and of 
a countenance exhibiting a character somewhat rough 
and very decided. AH (which was his name, as it is 
that of perhaps one-third of all the males in Persia) 
endeavoured to make himself useful and agreeable to 
us 4 but his exhibitions of zeal in our service were so 
ill-advised as to occasion far more difficulty than his 
presence prevented. We had stipulated that, on all 
occasions, we would pay for our food and accommoda- 
tion ; and that, where a place afforded a khan, he 
should not claim admittance for us to a private house. 

On approaching the termination of a day's journe^, 
it was the custom of the mehmandar to gallop on 
before us to provide for our accommodation ; and, on 
our arrival, we usually found him engaged in some 
unpleasant transaction or other. Among such we re- 
member that, on entering the caravanserai in the town 
of Maindoh, we found Ali in a foam of rage, and 
engaged in plying the terrible Persian horsewhip on 
the shoulders of an elderly merchant of respectable 
appearance, whose offence was this :— the mehmander, 
on examining the rooms of the caravanserai through 
the windows, had selected that for our accommodation 
which this man already occupied ; and as he seemed 
unwilling to relinquish his quarters, and delayed to open 
the door, Ali broke it down ; and then, conceiving that 
he did not exhibit sufficient alacrity in clearing out the 
apartment, began to belabour him in the manner 
■described! The man took the chastisement with in- 
expressible meekness as a customary circumstance,' and 
exhibited much surprise at our interposition in his 
behalf. 

Shortly after this transaction we entered Koordistsn, 
and we hoped that his knowledge of the fierce ami 
passionate character of the Koords, and their hatred to 
the Persians, would make our mehmandar more guarded 
and moderate than he had been among his own country- 
men. We were disappointed. After a long and tire- 
some ride through incessant pain, we arrived one even- 
ing in sight of the Koordish village of Adschtappa, and 
the mehmandar, as usual, galloped on to prepare for 
our reception. When we came up we found the whole 
village in an uproar ; and proceeding, saw the meh- 
mandar in the court of a cottage, standing with his 
back to the wall, and surrounded by resolute-looking 
men, — the long, knotted, and dangling cords of whose 
turbans gave them a particularly wild appearance, — 
clamouring vehemently with our conductor, against 
whom they seemed highly excited; while, somewhat 
more aloof, the women screamed, and the dogs barked, 
in the chorus of abuse. On our approach to the scene 
of action the excitement appeared to increase. We 
were forcibly beaten back with clubs on attempting to 
ride into the yard. Ali himself received several blows; 
arid some women, who had mounted the wall behind 
him, threw down stones upon his head. He was at 
last so irritated that he drew his sabre, on which several 
of the Koords drew their long yataghans and pressed in 
upon him. On this, the gentlemen of our party dis- 
mounted, and interposed, in a conciliatory manner, 
between the parties; and, though unarmed, succeeded 
in inducing them to put up their weapons, and in some- 
iv hat allaying the tumult. This was, perhaps, the 



more readily done as the Koords felt they were too near 
Tabreez to escape punishment if any serious injury were 
received by our party; and, on the other hand, we 
knew that we should all be sacrificed if a single Koord 
were killed, or even wounded, by the mehmandar. This 
affray had been occasioned by his insolence and in- 
discretion. On his arrival he had selected the best 
house in the place, and ordered the occupants to clear 
it out for our reception. To this no objection was 
made : but thinking that this labour was not performed 
with sufficient alacrity, he began to horsewhip the 
women, on which they ran away and complained to the 
men, who assembled and assaulted him in the manner 
described. " We are not Persians, to bear such treat- 
ment '." was their frequent exclamation on this occa- 
sion. We decidedly took part with them, and freely 
censured the conduct of the mehmandar, at the same 
time explaining that it was our custom always to pay 
for our provisions and accommodation. The man, how- 
ever, whose women had been maltreated, world not 
admit us into his house, and we remained hi the midst 
of the village, under a heavy rain, despairing of obtain- 
ing shelter lor the night, when one man took pity upon 
us, and invited us to share with his family and cattle 
the scanty accommodations of his cabin. 

This mehmandar conducted us to the town of Suli- 
manieh, which is governed by a Turkish pasha, who, 
when we left it, appointed a very stately person, with 
several servants in his train, to escort our party to 
Bagdad. We had before this been very much at the 
mercy of our muleteer, a rough, white-bearded old man, 
who cared far more about his cattle than about their 
riders. But he was obliged, with a very ill grace, to 
become a mere cypher under our new conductor, whose 
servants took a singular delight in horsewhipping him 
when any thing atniss in the caravan afforded them 
an excuse. They were Koords, and a Koord rarely 
omits any safe opportunity of displaying the hatred 
with which he regards a Persian. Before the power of 
Ibrahim, our new mehmandar, all difficulties vanished : 
the best accommodation was ready for us, and the best 
food Was forthcoming. In one village we were lodged 
in the mosque, Christians as we were, while the people 
assembled at the stated hours to their prayers on its roof. 
Ibrahim at first would allow us to pay nothing. He 
said we were the guests of the Pasha, and he dared 
not permit us to incur expense. We were, however, 
so much distressed to see the heavy countenances with 
which the poor people brought to our lodgings their 
rice, bread, fowls, eggs, and fruits, that we again 
insisted very strongly on our right to pay for what we 
required. We carried the point ; for a sudden thought 
seemed to strike the mehmandar, which induced him to 
withdraw his opposition, saying, " After all, the law 
for the English is, that they may do what they like." 
We observed, with surprise, that the villagers expressed 
wo satisfaction when informed that we intended to pay 
for what they supplied ; but we had afterwards cause 
to belieVe that Our conductor obliged them to deposit 
in his privy-purse the money they received in payment 
from our party. 

Circumstances such as these we have detailed ex- 
hibit, perhaps more forcibly than the history of de- 
pbpaiated cities, the miseries which invariably connect 
theftfserves with the minutest actions of a despotic 
government. Because it is the will of a persun in 
authority that attention should be paid to traNellcis 
(a just and wise thing in itself), the sanctities of private 
life are violated, and the unhappy people are made to 
feel that nothing which they possess is their own. 
Europe, during the feudal ages, was not much better 
off. Even the most civilized people have had a long 
and arduous struggle to cast off the hereditary bondage 
in which they lived. 



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80NGS OF THE SEASONS. 

Phx Spring Soko. 

Wiktm, Winter, is hurrying away;— 

Then'* a laaf ou the brier and a bird on the tree ; 
And the butterfly flits in the noon-tide ray, 

And the fara hath spread its flowers tor the bee : 
The lark ventures up in the pearly sky, 

The almond-bloom shews its faint blush to the ton, 
A wandering swallow here dares to fly,— 

The jolly young Spring his kingdom hath won. 
Winter, Winter, is hurrying away. 

Winter, Winter, will itill remain ; — " 

There's a frost on the grass and a blight on the flower , 
And the beetle is locked in the earth again, 

And the sheep gather close in the morning shower: 
The thrush is talent that gang before, 

The violet shrinks to her leafy nest, 
The mountain runnel* in torrents roar, — 

The pale Spring hides in old Winter's breast. 
Winter, Winter, will still remain. 

Winter, Winter, is over and gone ; — 

There's a dew on the lily, a scent in the rose, 
And the moth is out in the 8L*tny morn, 

And the May-fly dies in the daylight's close : 
The stock- dove is building in many a bower, 

The trees and the insects breathe again, — 
There's a charm in the day and a joy in the hour,— 

The steadfast Spring hath fixed his reign. 

Winter, Winter, is over and gone. C. H. 



average number of newspapers sent from London daily may 
be about 40,000, and instances have occurred, at periods of 
unusual interest, of above 100,000 newspapers being sent 
by the post from the metropolis in one day. 



Capability greater than Performance. — Men are often 
capable of greater things than they perform. They art 
tent into the world with bills of credit, and seldom draw to 
their full extent.— Horace Walpole. 



TRANSMISSION OF NEWSPAPERS BY POST. 

[From a Correspondent.] 

With reference to the recent Number of the ' Penny Maga- 
zine,* containing a ' History of the Rise and Progress of the 
Post Office,' it may not be uninteresting, at a period when the 
circulation of newspapers through that establishment has 
reached to such an unprecedented extent, to give some account 
of the origin of it, so far as it is known, and to trace the pro- 
gressive facilities which have been afforded. During the Pro- 
tectorate, a memorial was presented from certain officers of 
the post office, praying for the protection of a privilege, which 
had always been enjoyed by them, of forwarding newspapers 
by the post, which proves that the circulation of newspapers 
was on a systematic footing prior to the year 1650. In the 
year 1763 an Act was passed permitting newspapers to be 
sent and received free by members of both Houses of Par- 
liament, provided they " were signed on the outside by the 
hand of any member," or *« directed to any member at any 

flace whereof he should have given notice in writing to the 
'ostmaster General." This Act also recognized the ancient 
right of franking newspapers by officers of the post office, 
and certain clerks of the secretaries of state. In the years 
1768 and 1 793, Acts were passed authorizing compensations 
to the clerks of the secretaries of state for the loss sustained 
by them " in consequence of the methods in which news- 
papers" were then " dispersed into the country," and the 
tending and receiving of newspapers by members of parlia- 
ment was limited to the period of the sitting of parlia- 
ment, and forty days before and after the session. At the 
commencement of the present century, the regulation re- 
quiring members of parliament to give notice of the place to 
which newspapers might be addressed to them fell into dis- 
use, and if a member's name only appeared upon the cover, 
they were sent free to all parts of the United Kingdom. — 
The freo transmission of newspapers by the post was thus 
virtually thrown open to the public, and the origin of the 
establishments of agents amongst printers, booksellers, &c. 
for the supply of newspapers by post, may be dated from 
this period. In the year 1825 a law was passed rendering 
the use of a member's name unnecessary, and thus the trans- 
mission of newspapers by post became entirely open to the 
public, upon the condition that they •• shall be sent without 
covers, or in covers open at the sides, and shall not contain 
any other paper or thing whatsoever ;" also " that there 
shall be no writing other than the superscription upon such 
printed paper, or upon the cover thereof;" and in the event 
of these restrictions not being duly observed, the whole of 
such packet is " to be charged with treble the duty of post- 
age." It appears that in the year 1 782, there were 3,070,000 
newspapers sent thiough the post office; in 1796, 8,600,000 ; 
in 1831, 12,200,000 ; and in the last year, 11,600,000. The 



Richard Cromwell. — The second protector, it is well 
known, was produced as a witness at the age of near ninety, 
in Westminster Hall, in a civil suit. It is said that the 
counsel of the opposite party reviled the good old man with 
his father's crimes, but was reproved by the judge, who 
ordered a chair to be brought for the venerable ancient ; and 
that Queen Anne, to her honour, commended the judge for his 
conduct. From "Westminster-hall, Richard had the curiosity 
to go into the House of Lords ; and, standing at the bar, 
and it being buzzed that so singular a personage was there. 
Lord Bathurst, then one of the twelve new-created peers, 
went to the bar and conversed with Mr. Cromwell. Hap- 
pening to ask how long it was since Mr. Cromwell had been 
in that house, — " Never, my lord,'* answered Richard, ** since 
I sat in that chair,"— pointing to the throne. — Horace 
Walpole. 

The Imagination. — The faculty of imagination is the 
great spring of human activitv, and the principal source of 
human improvement As it delights in presenting to the 
mind scenes and characters more perfect than those which 
we are acquainted with, it prevents us from ever being com- 
pletely satisfied with our present condition, or with our past 
attainments ; and engages us continually in the pursuit of 
some untried enjoyment, or of some ideal excellence. Hence 
the ardour of the selfish to better their fortunes, and to add 
to their personal accomplishments ; and hence the zeal of 
the patriot and the philosopher to advance the virtue and 
the happiness of the human race. Destroy this faculty, and 
the condition of man will become as stationary as that of 
the brutes. — Dugald Stewart. 



Slate. — Experiments have been made to ascertain the ap- 
plicability of slate to other uses than the covering of houses. 
The result has been the discovery that, as a material for 
paving the floors of warehouses, cellars, wash-houses, bams, 
&c, where great strength and durability are required, it is 
far superior to any other known materia). In the extensive 
warehouses of the London Docks it has been used on a 
large scale. The stones forming several of the old floors, 
having become broken and decayed, have been replaced 
with slate two inches thick ; and one wooden floor, which 
must otherwise have been relaid, has been cased with slate 
one inch thick ; and the whole have been found to answer 
very completely. The trucks used in removing the heaviest 
weights are worked with fewer hands. The slabs being 
sawn, and cemented closely together as they are laid down, 
unite so perfectly, that the molasses, oil, turpentine, or other 
commodity which is spilt upon the floor, is all saved ; and, 
as slate is non-absorbent, it is so easily cleaned, and dries 
so soon, that a floor upon which sugar in a moist condition 
has been placed may be made ready for the reception of the 
most delicate goods in a few hours. Waggons or carts, 
containing four or five tons of goods, pass over truck-ways 
of two-inch slate without making the slightest impression. 
In no one instance has it been found that a floor made of 
eawn slate has given way ; in point of durability, therefore, 
it may be considered superior to every other commodity 
applied to such uses. The consequences of this discovery 
have been that full employment is found in the quarries 
which produce the best descriptions of slates, and that 
additional employment has been given to the British 
shipping engaged in the coasting trade. — From a Corre- 
spondent. 



* # * The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge n at 
59, Lincoln'* Ion Fields. 



LONDON .—CHARLES KNIGHT. 22, LUDGATE STREET. 



Printed b? William Clows, Duke Street, Lambeth, 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[March 15, 1834. 



THE TAMARIND. 



[Taraariud-Trec — Tamarindus IndieaJ] 



The Tamarind-tree is a native both of the East Indies 
and of tropical America, and probably also of Arabia 
and some parts of Africa. It was very early introduced 
into this country ; for Gerarde, whose ' Herbal ' was 
published in 1683, makes mention of it as growhig 
here. It does not often flower in England, though it 
has done so in the Royal Gardens at Kew : it is, how- 
ever, a common ornament of our hot-houses. Where 
it is a native, it grows to be a large tree, and affords 
excellent timber — heavy, firm, hard, and durable. The 
stem is large, covered with brown bark, and divides 
into many branches. The leaves are not unlike those of 
the mountain ash, only they are of a brighter green, 
and the leaflets are closer to the mid-nib : the leaflets 
are small, but the number in a leaf (sixteen or eighteen 
Vol, m. 



pairs in a leaf, with an odd one at the extremity) gives 
the tree a very light and elegant appearance. The 
flowers come out from the sides of the branches in 
loose bunches, and are followed by the pods, of which 
there are, generally, about Ave or six in a bunch. The 
pods of the West India tamarinds are, on an average, 
about three inches long, and contain about three seeds : 
those from the East are about double Jae size. 

The pulp, in which the seeds of the tamarind ara 
inclosed, contains more acid than any other vegetable 
substance, in a natural state, with which we are ac- 
quainted ; and, therefore, it is used both for sharpening 
food and drink, and for medicinal purposes. Niebuhr 
says, " The tamarind is equally useful and agreeabU. 
It has a pulp of a vinous taste of which a wholesome 





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f efresbihg liquor is prepared ; its shade shelters houses 
from the torrid heat of the sun; and its f:ne figure 
greatly adorns the scenery of the country." Its re- 
freshing properties have given it a place in our poetry : 
14 The damsel from the tamariuuMree 

Had pluck'd it* acid fruit, 

Ana steepM it in the water long : 

And whoso dra:»k of the cooling draught 

He would not wi»h lor wine *." 

Mandelslo, an old traveller, says, that as soon as the 
sun is set, the leaves of the tamarind close up the fruit 
to preserve it from the dew, and open as soon as that 
luminary appears again : — 

u "Tia the cool evening hour : 
The t unarind from the dew 
Sheathes its young fruit, yet green f.* 

The East India tamarinds are preserved without 
migar, and, therefore, they are the best for medicinal 
use. About forty tons of tamarinds are annually im- 
ported into Great Britain. (From * Veftluble 8ub- 
itanect: FruiU*') 



lLe*f, Kbwer. * «i Prm tf ib« Tsauriad.] 



IIU8IC FOR THE MANY.-No. II. 
Wk have elreadv said that Shakspeare wrote words 
for the music of Thomas Weelkes. " This admirable 
writer," says Ritson, " composed the most beautiful 
and excellent songs, which no one (so far as we know) 
can be said to have done before him J ; nor has any one 
excelled him since. • • In the plays of this fa- 
vourite of the muses, we find a number of fragments of 
oid tongs and ballads, which will afford us infinite 
amusement." 

Qvery leader of Shakspeare must remember how 
numeral* are these fragments and snatches of song, and 
on how many occasions he shews his love for the popular 
bal)a4** $nd the simple, touching music (which was al- 
ready eW in his time) of his native land. He has, 
however, never expressed this feeling more exquisitely 
than in these lines: — 

* How, stud Cesario, but that piece of song, 

That old and antique song, we hail last ni^ht 

Methou^ht it did relieve my paHKiou much, 

More than light uirs und recollected tt-rms 

Of thus* nutot brisk aud giddy -paced time*. 

• • • • • • 

O Mint, come ! the song we had last night :— 

Mark it, Cesario ; it is old mid plain : 

The spinsters and the knitters iu the sua, 

Aad toe free maids that weave their thread with bones. 

Do use to chant it ; it is hilly so.ith, 

And dallies with the iunoceui-e of love, 

Like the old age $ .'• 

One of Shakspeare's especial favourites was John 

Dowtand, who was a charming composer, as his 

madrigal, * Awake, sweet Love/ evinces ; and also a 

great performer on the lute, and who may often have 

♦ Thanhs. f Ibid. 

t Yksj critic properly excepts • The Passhns'r Shepherd to his 
****** kg Maria*, who wrote before ShaksjH-are. of this admin hie 
' " i hestiat, ' Ceuss live with me, mu<1 ins my love.' we shall 
) « Twelfth Night' 



regaled the poet with the strains he loved. The dra- 
matist thus addresses him on one occasion — 

« If Music and sweet I'ossfy efreo, 

As they must nreds, (he sister and the brother, 
Then mu»t the love lie great twixt thee and me. 
Because thou lov'st the one, aud 1 the other *.** 

Besides Shakspeare, two other of our old poets speak 
of the prevalence of music among the people of their 
times. The accomplished Lord Surrey says in one oi 
his poems — 

" My mother's maids, when they do sit and spin, 
Tney sing a song;*' 
and Bishop Hall, who was angry at the number of 
ballads and madrigals published, says that they were 
** Sung to the wheel, aud suug uuto the fusil f ;*' 

that is, sung by maids spinning and milking or (etch- 
ing water. Another satirical poet would lead us to 
believe that in his day the practice of serenading with 
harps and lutes and " songs of melody 11 was quite com. 
mon in the streets of London J. 

Popular music, which improved and extended itself 
in England during the feigns of Elizabeth and James 
I., was, in common with the rest of the fine arts, much 
encouraged during the tranquil pert of the reign of 
Charles I. Before the commencement of the tearful 
struggles between C barks and the Commons, con- 
siderable numbers were added to the lists both of song- 
writers and composers; and the love of music was 
widely spread among the people, who kept alive the 
melodies and songs of the preceding reigns. Not to 
refer to other records of the times, we have sufficient 
proof that this was the fact in that delightful old book, 
4 The Crm pie te Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's 
Recreation, 1 the author of which (Isaac Walton) was 
an accurate observer of the manners and customs of the 
day. His pictures, or descriptions, indeed, ha.e that 
convincing charm which can scarcely exist apart from 
truth and fidelity of representation. In his time, then, 
honest Isaac, bent on his favourite pa-stime of angling, 
took to the green fields on the banks of the river Lee, 
in the neighbourhood of London, which fields and 
which river are as bright and pleasant as ever, and 
much frequented, on summer holidays, by the in- 
dustrious inhabitants of the east and north-east parts 
of our immenscly-growu metropolis. In these fields, 
Isaac mentions, as a common occurrence, that he was 
wont to meet a handsome milkmaid, who had, cast 
away all care and sang like a nightingale, her voice 
being good and the ditties fitted for it. And what was 
the nature of the songs sung by this lovely damsel ? 
In the q taint words of Isaac Walton, " She sang the 
smooth song which ems made by Kit Marlow, now at 
least fifty years ago ; and the milkmaid's mother saug 
the answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh 
in his younger days/* Now these two songs, of which 
our old author gives the words as having been sung to 
him and a brother fisherman by the poor women, were 
written in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and were those 
exquisite lyrics, * Come live with me and be my loie, 1 
and * If all the world and love were young;' two 
poetical compositions wMch have never been sui panned 
to our times, and of which Isaac says iu A/% " ihey 
were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good ; I think, 
much better than that now in fashion in this critical 
age. 

In another part of these dialogues, in which he 
describes his habitual holiday life, when he asks ihe 
milkmaid to sing she says, What shall it be? — * Come, 
Shepherds, deck your heads,' 4 As at noon Dulcrua 
rested,' or * Phillida flouts me*' whiyh are three other 
songs of an elegance considered wacji above what is 



• ' Passionate Pilgrim.* 

{The noem cuataiatu** this U**> « 
Barclay's • Ship of ft* W 



Ifss1tisee«aaitt7. 



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now tensed the taste of the vulgar. At the end of a 
day's sport, Isaac says to bis comrade, who is a uoviee 
ia the life of an angler,— *" I'll now lead yea to an 
honest ale-house, where we shall find a cleanly room, 
with lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck 
about the walls." In this " cleanly room " the fisher- 
men wile away the evening by singing songs and duets. 
In fact, music and ballads, and snatches of old poetry, 
seem scarcely ever out of the heads of these honest 
anglers. The pleasant look of the meadows, and the 
sweet 6mell of the earth, invariably call forth a song, or 
a quotation of poetry ; every night, when their frugal 
supper is discussed, they sing solos or duets, and a 
casual dropper-in at the " honest ale-house " is expected, 
as a matter of course, to be able to take a part, — to 
sing the treble or the bass. Isaac Walton also talks of 
catches, or, as he calls them, " ketches." At the end 
of his book (in the old editions) he gives the words and 
music of one of his favourite duets, which relates to the 
pleasures of an angler's pursuits, -and begins, ' Man's 
life is but vain, for 'tis subject to pain.' The music, 
by Mr. H. Lawes, is simple and pretty, agreeably 
blending two voices. 

All the songs and the poetry quoted in the ' Complete 
Angler,' and mentioned as being then as familiar as 
household word**, are characterized by good taste and 
purity of thought. Among the many beautiful things 
Isaac Walton introduces, are, that touching elegy, * Sweet 
day so cool, so calm, so bright V by the Rev. Mr. Her- 
bert, some verses by Dr. Donne, and the virtuous and 
accomplished Sir Henry Wotton's song for the poor 
countryman, beginning, — 

" Fly from uur wuntry ptntiroei, fLj t 
bud troo}>B of human misery 1 
Come, Kervne lawks, 
Cleat m the crystal brooks, 
Or the pure aziueU In-aveu that smiles to sea 
The rich attendance on our |orerty t ! " 

Now, Isaac Walton figures himself as one of the 
people, and only describes the pastimes of homely men 
like himself. He is not a man of courts and drawing- 
rooms and fashionable assemblies ; he rolls along in no 
luxurious equipages ; he has no expensive amusements ; 
he is one u who, long in populous city pent," betakes 
himself to the roads and the fields, and the river's bank, 
and to the pure open air of heaven. Unattended and 
on foot, he leaves the town behind him, on some fine 
holiday, and walks over the hills to Tottenham, and 
thence to the pleasant Lee, with his fishing-rod in his 
hand, his basket on his shoulder, and, mayhap, a book 
Of ** smooth songs," or other poetry, in his pocket. He 
angles as long as it is opportune or pleasant so to do ; 
and, as a rational and soothing amusement for the rest 
of his holiday, he indulges in music and song. 

The earliest edition we have seen of Isaac Walton's 
book was printed in 1653, during the Commonwealth, 
a/id three years after the execution of Charles I. It is 
probable it refers to earlier and more cheerful times ; 
out it is also probable that humble, happy, philosophic, 
and, we may add, truly pious individuals like himself, 
might have found the means of indulging in their in- 
nocent pleasures even during the horrors of the civil 
war and the intolerance of puritan ism. Certain it is, 
however, that, at this time, popular music received a 
blow in England. In the eyes of the over-strict Puri- 
tans, every amusement was a profanation and an im- 
morality ; and singing of songs and dancing were held 
to be among the worst of these. In one of Cromwell's 
ordinances, dated 1656, it is enacted that, " if any of 
the persons commonly called fiddlers or minstrels shall 
at any time be taken playing, fiddling, and making 

* This song lta* been given in No. 24, voL i* of tlie ' Fenuy 
Ifiigaxioe.' 
t «r Henry Wotten sad fir. Donas Wrote ia the time of 



music in any inn* blehooeet or tavern, or abaft be taken 
proffering themselves* or desiring or entreating any ia 
hear them play or moke music in any of the piaeea 
aforesaid," they are to be " adjudged, and declared to 
be rogues, vagal jonds* and sturdy beggars." 

Allowing full force to the mistaken religious teal of 
the period, we must, however, mention, that there were 
other motives for this persecution which were likely tt> 
have quite as much influence in the minds of Cromwell 
and his party* The gay wits and the song writers of 
the day were all Royalists, and were continually at- 
tacking the gloomy Roundheads, and making efforts to 
circulate their satirical pieces through the nation. 
Then, as has happened since in different countries of 
Europe, certain tunes, even without any words, were 
considered as being identified with political principle 
or party, and as likely to keep alive, and even lead to 
dangerous ebullitions, the prejudices or feelings of those 
to whom they were addressed. Again, as excess on 
one side provokes excess on the other, the Royalists 
ran as much beyond the circle of proper conviviality as 
the Puritans kept within it, and thus gave the latter a 
plausible motive for suppressing even the most rational 
and innocent amusements. 

[To be concluded id ettr next.] 



THE PHYSICAL POWERS OF SAVAGBS. 
There has seldom probably been a period in which 
persons have not been found, who, from what they saw 
on a cursory view, were inclined to consider the savage 
state of man in many respects preferable to the civi- 
lized. But there never was a period in which this 
opinion found advocates so many, so zealous, and so 
able, as about the middle of the last century. It is not 
our intention to enter into the question. This is not 
necessary now, when the opinion is only met with 
occasionally, in some book of fiction ; and is at present 
only regarded as one of the infatuations to which the 
human mind seems almost periodically subject. It may, 
nevertheless, not be uninteresting to state some of the 
impressions on which this opinion was founded, and 
some of the facts which resulted from the agitation of 
the question. 

The advocates for the savage life relied much On the 
greater acuteness of physical sense, the greater speed, 
the greater strength, in the savage than in the civilized 
man ; and they considered their argument established 
by the inference that civilization tended to neutralize 
his natural powers. It is this part of the argument, as 
the most practical, to which we shall limit our atten- 
tion. 

Some of the advocates of civilization endeavoured, 
we think very unnecessarily, to dispute the alleged facts. 
But it is, for instance, certain that Kalmucs, Arabs, and 
other inhabitants of deserts or open plains, can perceive 
very minute objects at a distance perfectly astonishing 
to an European. The same people, by laying them- 
selves on the ground and applying the ear close to the 
soil, can distinguish the very remote trampling of horses, 
the noise of an enemy* of a flock of sheep, or even of 
strayed cattle. The sense of smelling is of correspond- 
ing acuteness. There are few Kalmucs, and other bar- 
barous or savage people, who cannot tell, by applying 
the nose to the hole of a fox or other quadruped, whe- 
ther the animal is within or not : and on their military 
expeditions they can detect the smell of a camp or of a 
fire long before any of his senses would convey such 
information to an European. It is also affirmed, that 
savages have much stronger powers of mastication than 
Europeuns; and that their memories are far more 
retentive. The superior strength of the uncivilized man 
seems to have been less disputed than the preceding 
facta, It is, however, singular that this point, which 



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was considered the least controvertible, is the only one 
which the observations of travellers and physiologists 
hare not tended to establish. The experiments of M. 
Peron on savages of different nations, with the dynamo- 
meter, though they cannot be considered as affording 
materials for a certain and general conclusion, are suffi- 
ciently curious and interesting to have their results 
briefly stated. 

The dynamometer is an instrument designed for the 
purpose of measuring the quantity of force exerted by 
men or animals. The one employed by M. Peron (that 
of Regnier) consisted of an elliptical spring one foot 
long and rather narrow. It was covered with leather 
that it might not injure the hand that compressed it. 
The strength of the spring was such as to exceed that 
of any animal to' which it might be applied; aud it 
contained a mechanism with an index which indicated 
the quantity of the power by which the spring was 
compressed. M. Peron was the first to whom the idea 
occurred of employing this instrument for the purpose 
of comparing the strength of the savage with that of 
the civilized man ; and in the voyage to the southern 
hemisphere, undertaken by the order of Buonaparte, 
the following results were obtained. The manual 
power, expressed in French kilogrammes, was — 
Van Diemen's Land . . 50*6 
New Holland . . . 51-8 
Timor . . . . 58 '7 

French .... 69*2 
English . . . . 71*4 
M. Peron could never induce the natives of Van Die- 
men's Land to try the strength of their loins ; but the 
result, in respect to the others, expressed in French 



wynogrammes, was — 
New Holland 



14-8 
16-2 
22- 1 
23*8 



Timor 
French . 

English • 

As these experiments, so far as they went, showed the 
most savage people to be the weakest, M. Peron was 
certainly entitled to his conclusion, " that the develop- 
ment of physical strength is not always in a direct ratio 
to the want of civilization, nor a necessary consequence 
of the savage state." 

In dealing with the general question, however, it is 
not necessary to have any evidence of the inferior 
strength of savage tribes to come to a second conclusion 
upon the advantages of the two states of civilization 
and unciviljzation. Allowing to the savage all the 
perfections claimed for him in other physical qualities, 
lie is excelled in acuteness of vision by the eagle and 
hawk; in. the power of hearing, by hares, horses, asses, 
and other animals having large ears which they can 
erect ; in smelling, by dogs and many other animals ; 
in memory, by dogs and horses ; in mastication, by 
most animals ; and in swiftness how many quadrupeds 
excel him — how many in strength ! In admitting the 
superiority of the savage in merely physical powers 
over the civilized man, it is unnecessary also to account 
for it by peculiarities in the conformation of his organs. 
Some writers maintain that the olfactory and optic 
nerves are uncommonly large in the African ; and that 
the KaJmucs have very large ears, which stand out consi- 
derably from the head. We think it, however, quite 
unnecessary to endeavour thus to account for any supe- 
rior vivacity or power which may be found to exist in 
the organs of sense. Exercise alone seems to us quite 
sufficient to account for the difference, and we consider 
that the physical faculties both of the civilized and 
uncivilized man have just that degree of power, not 
less or more, which their respective circumstances have 
called forth. The circumstances of the savage are such 
as to require the utmost exertion of the organs of sense 
— hence his animal superiority. The circumstances of 
*he civilized man are such as to demand the greater 



exercise of the mental powers; and hence his supe- 
riority in all that essentially distinguishes the hnmai 
from the brutal nature. In the case of hearing, for 
instance, few sounds ever break the silence of the vast 
solitudes which savages usually frequent; and they, 
therefore, have been more in the habit of attending to 
low and distant sounds, than one whose organs have 
been developed amidst the din of cities, and to whom 
such exquisite sensibility would, in bis ordinary drcuro- 
sfences, be an absolute nuisance. In the same manner* 
if we consider M. Peron to have proved the savage to 
be inferior in bodily strength to the civilized man, it 
may be attributed to the want of that exercise by whkfe 
their other physical powers are perfected. It would 
have been desirable that we should have been informed 
whether the Europeans, with whom he compares them* 
were gentlemen, sailors, artisans, or convicts, between 
whom he would probably have found a difference of 
aggregate strength, or in the mode of its exhibition, 
equal to the extremes in his tables. We fear, although 
it may be easy to find the difference of power between 
one man and another in some particular develoiftnents 
of strength, it must be extremely difficult to form a true 
estimate of the aggregate difference. One man is 
stronger than another in the legs, another in the arms; 
one man can drag a great weight after him, another 
can haul a rope with force, and another can carry a 
heavy load upon his head or back. Some* again, who 
have not been much accustomed to labour, are capable 
of immense exertion for a short period ; but are quite 
unequal to the moderate but continuous exertion in 
which others find no difficulty. And so, generally, it 
is less perhaps in aggregates of power that men excel 
one another, than in some particular developments. 
For instance, the Arabs of the desert, of whose powers of 
vision such wonderful things are related, do not at all 
equal Europeans in the perception of near objects. 

Separately from any such idle controversies as that to 
which we have alluded, it is interesting to study the very 
remarkable law of adaptation on which that most uni- 
versal of beings — man — is formed, both in his external 
and internal organization; and through which he is 
enabled to inhabit all climates, to subsist on all aliments, 
and to bear' all modes of life. It is an employment no 
less profitable than interesting to contemplate the same 
being in one part of the world approximating in facul- 
ties and habits to the beasts of his native forest or wil- 
derness ; and, in another, forming a part in a great and 
complicated system, in which innumerable agencies are 
employed to minister to the wants and comforts of each 
day, and in which.it becomes more or less incumbent 
on every man to employ his powers for the general 
welfare. 

HALIFAX. 
The parish of the same name in which Halifax is 
situated is of greater extent than the whole county If 
Rutland, being 17 miles in length and averaging 11 
miles in breadth, comprising an area of 124 square 
miles, or 79,200 acres. The soil is naturally sterile and 
unproductive; and when Camden travelled in York- 
shire in 1579, the population of the whole parish did 
not exceed 12,000. It now amounts to 92,650 ; and t 
soil has been, as it were, created in the sterile wilder- 
ness, which now presents a fruitful district and a po- 
pulous race. The cause of this improvement must be 
sought in the local circumstances which afforded im- 
portant facilities for the erection of mills and factories 
on the establishment of the woollen manufactures in 
this country, with the increase of which Halifax has 
gone on increasing. 

The singularity of the name of this place renders it 
worth while to state its origin, as given by Whittaker. 
In the deep valley, then embosomed in the wpodi, 



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where the parish church of Halifax now stands, there 
stood anciently a hermitage dedicated to St John the 
Baptist, the reputed sanctity of which attracted a great 
number of pilgrims from all quarters. Four ways, by 
which the modern town of Halifax is entered, still dis- 
tinctly point to the church as their common centre; 
these were the roads by which the pilgrims approached 
the place of devotion, and hence the name of Halifax, 
or Holy Ways, fax being, in Norman-French, an old 
plural noun denoting " highways." 



Hie town of Halifax is situated on the south-eastern 
declivity of a gently-rising eminence; but being' 
inclosed by a chain of hills which stretch from east to 
south, it seems, on approaching in that direction, to 
stand in a deep valley. Being in the midst of numerou* 
waters, particularly adapted for mills and machinery ; 
near the common source of the rivers* Which, diverging 
from this point, flow towards the eastern and western 
seas ; being also in the vicinity of the great wool dis- 
tricts of the county, and not far from an abundant 



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tunply of coals* it presented advantage* for a seat of 
thewoolUm manufacture too obvious to escape notice. 
It ban consequently become on* of the principal seats 
of the cloth manufacture in the kingdom, and hasalso 
obtaiued a share in the manufacture of cotton. There 
teem to have beea established some manufactures at 
Halifax so early as 1414; but they must have been 
very inconsiderable, as the site was only occupied by a 
village of thirteen houses in 1443. But the woollen 
manufacture gradually became considerable; and, in 
the reign of Henry VII., many Flemish manufacturers 
settled in &* country, to which tbey were the more 
easily persuaded to resort by the dwtresn they suffered 
in their own. The influence which this improvement 
had on the prosperity of Halifax is indicated by the 
feet that, in 1540, the number of houses had increased 
to 5-20. Many of the Flemings are conjectured to hnte 
settled at Halifax; and this supposition is strengthened 
by the similarity which exists in the dialect of the 
labouring elasses there and in the Low Countries, par- 
ticularly to Friesland, and hence the following distich s 

« Oooid bride, better, and state*, 
k gooul Huliikx, and gooid Frists." 

The extent and value of the woollen manufactures of 
Halifax, in the early periods of its history, may be 
estimated from a peculiar local law designed to afford 
protection to the clothiers from the depredations to 
which their goods were exposed during the progress of 
the manufacture. It was customary, a* it still is, to 
stretch the cloth on racks, or wooden frames to dry, as 
shown in our wood-cut. And being thus left all night, 
and liable to be stolen, the magistrates were invested 
with a jurisdiction to try and inflict capital punishment, 
fin a summary manuer, on all persons who stole pro- 
perty valued at more than thirteen-pence-halfpenny, 
within the liberties or precincts of the forest of Hard- 
wick. Those charged with this offence were taken 
before the bailiff of Halifax, who forthwith summoned, 
as his assessors, the frith-burghers of the several towns 
within the forest, who instantly proceeded to the trial. 
They could convict the prisoner on three grounds only : 
if he were seized in the act of thieviug ; or with the 
stolen goods upon him; or, lastly, on his own Con- 
fession. If the day on which the culprit was con- 
victed happened to be tl»* principal market-day, he was 
taken immediately, or, if not, on the first following 
marktMlay, to the scaffold in the market-place of 
Halifax, and there beheaded by means of a machine 
resembling the guillotine used in France during the 
Revolution. Tnis was called "Gibbet Law," under 
which it Is ascertained that, on an average, one execu- 
tion took place every two years in the century preceding 
1650; but on that year, the bailiff of Halifax being 
threatened with a prosecution, relinquished the custom, 
and the scaffold was taken down. The jurors, under 
this law, were not sworn ; and Bishop Hall, in his 
• Satires,' insinuates that they were not impartial :— 

* Or tomt mart ttratt^ared juror of the rati 
lapaaneifod on an Halifax inquest*" 

Yt% may, In this place, mention that the Earl of 
Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland, while in Eng- 
land, in 1566, directed a model of it to be taken, and, on 
his arrival in Scotland, had One of similar construction 
mads from it. The instrument was so long unused as 
to obtain the name of the "Maiden;" but, in 15SI, 
the Earl himself was brought to the block, and suffered 
by the machine he had caused to be erected. 

Placed by its situation out of the ordinary range of 
hostile armies Halifax docs not appear 10 have suffered 
much from the calamities of war. During the civil 
contests it the reign of Charles I.» the town was garri- 



soned by the Parliamentarians ; and at that period • 
smart tjction took place at a spot in the neighbourhood 
which retains the name of u Blond field * to this 
day. The fidelity of Halifax to the Parliamentary 
cause was rewarded by the privilege nf sending mem- 
bers to the Hbuse of Commons, both uiirier the 
Parliament and the Protectorate. This privilege was 
withdrawn on the Restoration ; and the town remained 
unrepresented until the provisions of the Reform Bill 
entitled it to send two members to the Legislature. 

The present town of Halifax contains many hand, 
seme buildings, — principally stone structures, — but 
then are several of brick ; and a few ancient edifices 
may still be perceived, the architecture of which cea- 
sists of a frame- work of wood, the intervals being 
filled up with plaster or clay. From the mixture of 
•tone and brick, and from the numerous small enclo- 
sures around the houses, the town presents, from a cbs* 
tanee* a singularly varied and iutere&ting appear* 
•nee. 

The church, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, is a 
spacious and handsome Gothic edifice, erected at diffe- 
rent periods, the tower and steeple having been com- 
plete*! in 1470. The accommodation it affoided having, 
however, become Insufficient tor the increased popula- 
tion, a large and elegant new church, in the Grecian 
style of architecture, was erected in 1798, by the late 
vicar, Dr. Coulthurst. There are besides seven chapels 
for diesenteis of different denominations ; also a free 
school founded by Queen Elizabeth, a blue-coat hospital, 
and a theatre. The manufactures are carried on in the 
town and neighbourhood, and the beneficial effects ef 
trade and industry are nowher? more strikingly ex- 
hibited. A continued range of thriving villages and 
country-seats extends over the whole of the immenst 
parish, which now comprehends twenty-ux townships 
furnished with thirteen episcopal churches or chapelt 

The chief articles of manufacture are shalloons, 
taminets, moreens, shags, serges, baiaes, coatings, and 
Carpets \ with narrow and broad cloths and kerseymeres, 
both for domestic use and for the army. It was some 
years ago computed that 10,000 pieces of shalloon alone 
were manufactured in this parish, considerable quan- 
tities of which were exported to Turkey and the Levant, 
Several cotton manufactories have been erected, and 
this branch of manufacture is on the increase. Excel* 
lent wool-cards are also made in Halifax. In the 
neighbourhood large quantities of freestone have been 
dug, and sent to the metropolis for sale; slate of a 
superior quality is also found; and fuel for domestic 
purposes, and for the consumption of the various facto- 
ries, is supplied from coal-mines at a shoit distance. 
It is to the abundant supply of fhis important article, 
which, In the use of the steam-engine, alfbrdasthe same 
advantages as the numerous rapid brooks formerly^pr- 
nished for mills, that the continued prosperity jof4V 
fax must be mainly attributed. A weekly market if 
held on Saturdays, chiefly for the sale of woollen cloth. 
For the accommodation of the traders in this article, 
there is a large freestone edifice, called the Cloth Hall, 
occupying an area of 10,000 square yards, and divided 
into 313 apartments for the reception of gcods^j " 
quantity of which, exposed for sale at one time, 1 
rally amounts in value to 50,0001. Commercial 
course between Halifax and Hull, as well as the eastern 
parts of England generally, is carried on by means 
of the Aire and C alder navigation ; and with Man- 
chester, Liverpool, Lancaster, and the west, a com* 
municatkm is furnished by the Rochdale canal. Hall* 
fax is 197 miles from London, and 42 from York. 
According to the returns of the last census the newly- 
created borough, whfch includes the townships of North 
Ouraoi mad Ovaoden, affords \ population of 3M9^ 



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NORWICH CASTLE. i | n >im the grand simplicity ©f its effect. If the earth 

Twb Castle of Norwich stands near the heart of the I eould no longer he accommodated to the purposes of 
City, and at some distance west from the cathedral. It [ a plaee of confinement, there would seem at least to 

have heen no necessity for sticking the new prison upon 



occupies the termination of a long acclivity which enters 
the city from the south-east. The site of the castle rs 
both the centre and the most elevated spot of the city; 
and, placed on that commanding eminence, the old 
fortress is seen from a great distance raising its massive 
front far above all the surrounding buildings. It stands 
nearly, but not quite, with its walls facing the cardinal 
points, the east and west ends being only a very little 
inclined towards the soi'th and north respectively. 

What is now, and has for many ages been, called the 
Castle, however, is merely the keep, or main tower of 
the entire structure. In its original state, the fortress 
no doubt consisted of several courts, all surrounded with 
buildings. The space over which it once extended can 
still be nearly ascertained, and appears to have been 
about twenty-three acres. There were three circular 
fortifications, each consisting of a wall with a deep fosse 
or ditch at its base. The spaces thus inclosed formed 
an outer, a middle, and an inner court, or ballium, as 
such divisions were properly called when of this pe- 
culiar form. Near the centre of the inner ballium, 
which occupied the summit of the hill, was placed the 
keep, as the principal part of the stronghold, and the 
refuge of iis occupants, should they be driven from 
every other post. 

A great part of the space which was once included 
within the castle is now covered with streets and lanes, 
and seems to belong to the town. It is said, however, 
that even the line of the outer ditch may still be 
partially traced by a close examination of the ground ; 
or at least it might have been so not many years ago. 
The only entrance into the castle was by a bridge thrown 
over this ditch, at the north end of what is now called 
Golden-ball Line , that is, at the south-east point of the 
circle. There was also a biidge over the second ditch, 
opposite to that over the first; but this, too, has been 
completely swept away. That over the last of the 
three ditches, however, still remains, and is unquestion- 
ably one of the most ancient structures of this descrjp- 



one of the ends of the old one. By this conjunction, 
both buildings are deformed. 

The east end of the castle, the greater part of which 
is now in manner hidden from view, was the principal 
front of the building. Here was an oblosg projection, 
measuring fourteen feet (rem the wall, by about twenty* 
seven in the opposite direction, which served as a sort 
of porch or outer tower leading to the greater strong- 
hold. It adjoined the northern corner. The archi- 
tecture of this exterior erection was more ornamental 
than that of the body of the castle, and seemed to indi- 
cate that it had been raised in a more recent age ; on 
which account Mr. Wilkius has called it Bigot's Tower, 
after the nobleman in whose hands the place was after 
the Norman Conquest. It does not appear, however, 
that the tower had been traditionally known by this 
appellation. It was adorned by three arches fro in the 
east, and one at its northern extremity. 

The main building is a parallelogram, 1 10 feet in 
length from east to west, by about JJ3 leet in breadth. 
With the exception of the east end already noticed, the 
different sides present nearly the same general aspect, 
— a basement story built of rough flint-stones, and 
above that three upper stories, constructed of regularly- 
laid and ornamented freestone. Running along each 
is a series of semicircular arches, supported by small 
columns, and between them slight buttresses ascend 
from the base of the wall to the top. In the upper 
story the face of the wall behind the arches is formed 
Into a sort of net-work by the stones being ranged in 
diagonal rows, and being besides ornamented with deep 
grooves, so as to produce a sort of cross-hatching. 1 he 
entire height is nearly seventy feet, of which twenty- 
four feet is occupied by the basemer.t story ; and the 
whole terminates in a batilemented ridge. The walls 
are in some places thirteen feet thick. 

The origin of the building is involved in great un- 
certainty ; and the question has much divided the anti- 



tion in the kingdom. It consists of the half of a circle ' quaries. " Vulgar tradition," saysThornhaughGurdon, 



of the diameter of fotty-thrce feet three inches, and is 
partly built of bricks, a circumstance which has induced 
some antiquaries to regard it as of Roman erection. 
The biicks, however, are not such as were used by the 
Romans, but of the kind found in Saxon structures. 
At the inner teimination of tfei& bodge there were to be 
seen, some years ago, the remains of two round towers, 
each of about fourteen fret in diameter, by which it had 
been anciently guaided. 

When Mr. King, in I77fi, wrote his 'Observations 
on Ancient Ca»ile.-,' printed in the fourth volume of the 
4 Archig< frgia,' and e\en, in l'^S, when Mr. Wilkin* 
TUMp&ied his ' Ess-ay towaids a History of the Venta 
JWnnini of the Romans' published in the twelfth 
volume of the same collection, Norwich Castle was 
* still roofed in and filled with apartmeuts. Jn eon* 
' sequence, indeed, of its having been long used as 
the county-gaol, its inteiior anangements had under- 
gone many alterations ; but still it was possible to trace 
Uptr original d'ufycsitiuu to a eomideruble extent. This 
Mr? Wilkins has done, and his 'Essay' is illustrated 
by numerous plaits ami other engravings, exhibiting the 
state of the different floors. The building is uow, bow* 
ever, a mere shell, the interior partitions being euliiely 
gutted out, and the roof removed. About forty years 
ago, a new building was erected to serve as the gaol, 
being that which in the view is seen attached to the 
east end of the far moie majestic old ke#p, This an* 



in a short anonymous Essay, published at Norwich 
in I72H, ** first makes it a British castle of great 
streugth, before Julius Caesar peeped into the nation ; 
and another part of the same tradition gives it a high 
founder, no less man than Julius Caesar, and that the 
great crack in the east wall of it was made at the same 
time the veil of the Temple was rent ; and have pro- 
duced some other such-like brats of prolific imagination, 
not .worthy of confutation." Qurdon has traced the 
known history of the castle with considerable learning; 
end his sketch has heen the guide of most of tho.e wtio 
have since given an account of it. The common opi- 
nion is, that the original Roman station in this part of 
the island, the Venta Icenorum as they called it, was 
at Castor, about three miles south fain Noiwieh ; al- 
though Mr. Bloinefield, the learned historian of the 
county, conceives it to ha\e been not here but at Elm 
ham. It can scarcely be doubled, however, ihat C'asu. r 
was a Roman or British settlement, whether that called 
in the c Itineraries ? Venta Icenorum or not. Ii was in 
ail probability in reference to Castor that Norwich was 
so named by the Saxons. The word Mg,.ifies merely 
the northern town. When the Saxon leader, Lffa, in 
576, founded the kingdom of Ea.-t Anglia, the pre.*ent 
county of Norfolk foimed a part of it ; and it is ascer- 
tained that, before the middle of the following century, 
Anna, one of UuVs successors, had a cas.le cr royal 
residence here. ^YYhat sort of erection this may hfftc 



Ancient 



an« 

the 

castles 



nexatkm, of puny dimensions, aud in an incon gruou s .been. howe\er, it is impossible to suy 

style of architecture, certainly disfigures, in no slight ptkorities stoj^ that when Alfred the Great, in 

jBproc, the noble structure to which it is attached, and I ninth century, repaired and restored the dilTerenl ca 

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which Had suffered from the devastations of the Danes, 
he, for the first time, huilt of stone many of them which 
had before been constructed only of earth ; and that of 
Norwich seems to be spoken of as one of the number. 
Alfred's Castle, however, was, in the beginning of the 
eleventh century, entirely destroyed by the Danish 
invader, Sweyn. There is no mention in any record of 
the erection of another fortress before the Norman Con- 
quest ; but from the character of the architecture of the 
present building, which is not Norman, but Saxon, it is 
supposed to have been the work of Sweyn's son, Canute 
the Great, who, during his peaceful reign, is known to 
have planted many such strongholds throughout the 
country, the better to control his subjugated kingdom. 
After the Conquest, in 1077, Roger Bigot is recorded 
to have been appointed Constable of Norwich Castle 
It remained in that family until it was surrendered to 
the crown, in 1225, in the reign of Edward III. About 
half a century afterwards, however, it was again granted 
to the Bigots, now become Earls of Norfolk, and 
Marshals of England. The other historic notices which 
have been preserved of it, merely record the names of 
the successive noblemen* who enjoyed the honour of 
being its constables. It became eventually the property 
of the crown, in whose possession it continued till the 
year 1806, when it was, by act of parliament, made 
over, in trust, to the magistrates of Norfolk, to be by 
them disposed of for purposes connected with the public 
business of the county. 

The mode in which Norwich Castle appears to have 
been fortified is certainly somewhat peculiar, and ought, 
perhaps to be considered as alone furnishing a strong 



proof that it is not a Norman work. Some antiquaries 
have even gone so far for the model of the three circular 
walls as to the Temple of Jerusalem, and certain 
oriental fortresses of equal or perhaps greater anti- 
quity, which are stated by Josephus to have been con- 
structed in this fashion. It may be observed, however, 
that, admitting the original foundation of the castle, 
and the form of the outworks, to belong to times ante- 
cedent to the Norman invasion, the keep may still have 
been erected since that event. In so far as its interior 
construction can now be ascertained, it appears to have 
closely resembled the castles of Canterbury and Ro- 
chester, both of which were Norman structures. It 
seems to have been, for instance, divided, as they were, 
into two parts by a strong partition, running across it 
from east to west, and probably containing a well which 
was open from the foundation to tjie summit of the 
building. Norwich Castle, we may mention in con- 
clusion, was in former times popularly known by the 
name of Blanche-flower, in allusion perhaps to the 
colour of the stone, which, when new, would be white, 
but more probably, wc think, to the general beauty 
of its appearance. This appellation seems to have been 
forgotten at the beginning of the last century. Guidon 
says he must believe it to have been at one time 
in use, because Coke mentions it in his * Institutes.' 
But the castle is also so called by others ; — for example, 
by the writer of a very curious account of the reception 
given by the people of Norwich to Queen Elizabeth, 
when she visited the city in 1587, which may be found 
in Hollingshed, and also in Nichols's Progresses of that 
Queen. 



V The Ofletrf fte Bodttf fcr the DtQrfon of UeeM Knowledge Uai8», Iiaeolrt 1 
fcOKrtNt-^raABXES* KNIGHT. S, LODQATK STREOT. 



PrialeOr William Ctowi* Duke Street, Leabetk 



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[Ma*c*32, 



Jjf Np. 73 of the c Penny Magazine ' a grotip of several 
specimens of the Toucan was given, accompanied by a 
short account of that remarkable bird. For the present 
very curious variety we are indebted to Jlr. Gould's 
splendid * Monograph of the Family of Ramphaetidtt,' 
the author of which has given the only description of 
t)je bjrd, and supplied the specific denomination. It is 
thus described: — The beak is lengthened, both man- 
dibles being edged with thickly-set white serratures; 
the upper has the culmen of an orange colour, bordered 
by a narrow longitudinal stripe of dull blue, extending 
nearly to the lip, below which the sides of the mandible 
are fine orange red ; a white line surrounds the apertures 
of the nostrils ; the under mandible is straw-coloured, 
becoming orange at the tip ; — a narrow band of rich 
chestnut encircles both mandibles at their base, The 
crown of the head is covered with a crest of curled, 
metal-like feathers, without barbs, of an intense blsek, 
and very glossy ; as they approach the occiput these ap- 
pendages gradually lose their curled character and be* 
come straight, narrow, and spatulate 
this part, Mr. Gould regrets that it 
efforts of the pencil to do justice to U 
of these glossy and curiously-curled 
structure of which appears to consist m u i*iiaiuuuii ui 
the shsit of each feather, or, perhaps, an agglutination 
of the web into one mass. The feathers on the cheeks 
have the same form as those on the ocpiput, but are 
more decidedly spatulate, and being pf a yellowish^ 
white colour, tipped at the extremity with black. The 
occiput and upper tail coverts are of a deep blood-red 5 
the chest delicate yellow, with slight, crescent?shape4 
bars of red. The back, tail, and thighs are plive-green, 
the quills brown, and the tarsi of a lead-colour, The 
following were the dimensions of the specimen re- 
presented: — total length eighteen inches, bill tour, 
wings five and three-quarters, tail seven aud ft-balf, 
tarsi two aud a quarter. 

Two examples of this species formed part ol a. collec- 
tion of rare birds brought to this country from Rio de 
Janeiro. Of these Mr. Gould was so fortunate as, |p 
obtain one of the finest, apparently a male, and which 
is now jn the Museum of the Zoological Society pf 
London. The other, which is considered a female, is 
preserved in the British Museum. The habitat of this 
species is probably in the almost untrodden forests 
which border the River Amazon; but our information 
concerning it is at present limited (9 the above da*erip- 
tioB of its appearance. 



TffB LABOURERS OF EUROPEAN?. g, 

Tub Pkaiantky op tub Alps — Switzerland. 
I* the Alpine districts of Switzerland, which occupy all 
the eastern and southern, and some of the central, parts 
of that country, each proprietor cultivates his own porr 
tion of land in the valleys ; the pasture and forest lands 
on the mountains are in common. Cows constitute the 
wealth of the land-owners, and goats form the resources 
of the poorer people. The goat is peculiarly fitted for 
mountain-pastures, as he will climb and browse on crags 
and "cliffs where sheep could not ascend. In winter, 
the goats are fed on the boughs pf the fir tree. A 
goat yields more milk than a ewe: but goats are also 
very destructive to gardens, plantations, and shrub- 
beries. In some parts pf Switzerland a cow will ^H?# 
a« much is twelve quarts of milk in ttf ajf ^*Mp|y 
of cheese is made, which constitutes the ahiercrticle pf 
exportation, and in return for wni6hMhe inhabitants 
ppoeure those necessaries/nnd even luxuries, which their 
country does not afford. The cheese called Gruyere is 
WWll celebrated, and considerable quantities are yearly 
exported. The cheeses of Urseren, ©nterwalden, Em- 
inenthal, &c., arc also much egteejner\ ;^*spf(ie of Ujeje, 



will Jteep fee half a sfntury. The cheese called Sfhah- 
zieger is made in the canton of Glarus, and is mixed 
with aromatic herbs or flowers. The value of the 
cheese, butter, and other preparations of milk is cal- 
culated at about 25,000,00(1 of Swiss livres, or 
l,500,000f. sterling, yearly. 

The valleys at tne foot of the Alps produce a little 
com, and abundance of potatoes, turnips, carrots, and 
other roots. Fruit trees, such as the apple, the pear, 
the cherry, the plum, are also abundant. Some districts, 
such as the Canton of Zug, for instance, appear like 
one vast orchard. The vine, however, does not gTov>, 
except in very few spots. 

In the upper valleys of the Alps, where the winter 
lasts for six or eight months, during the greater part of 
which the snow bloeks up thf communications, each 
family must lay in provisions for that season. The 
following has been stated as the quantity required for a 
family of seven person? :— 1 cwt. of hard baked bread; 
1000 lb. of potatoes; 7 cheeses, each weighing 251b.; 
ides the mjlk pf thiee cows and seven goats. One 
the cows is killed during the season, Puring this 
iry period, the family are employe^ in making linen 
their own use, for which purpose a small patch of 
1 11c ground belonging to every pottage is sown? with 
flax. The men are busy at several kinds pf in-door 
wprfc j they earve wppd into different articles pf use or 
ornament, such as bowls, toys, clogs, spoons, &c, in 
which they are very skilful, and which they afterwards 
sell in the towns. The houses are mostly built of wood, 
and detached in scattered hamlets to avoid the spreading 
pffire. They are generally large, solid, and roomy; 
thf interior kept very clean, the windows gla2i*l, but, 
owing tp the cold, pnly one-fourth part or panel of the 
sash is made to open. Added to this, the stoves, made 
pf a soft, porous stone,— and with which the rooms are 
warmed,^produce an unpleasant smell, which is net 
heeded by the inhabitants, who sit for days together, in 
Winter, crowded intp one room. Sudden transition 
fropi the icy atmosphere outside to the high temperature 
of the apartments, is the cause of many colds and 
ppiiflhs, which often terminate in death. 

Th* population of these mountain cantons is strictly 
nastprel, Thf land in the valleys is divided by thick 
hedges into fields for pasture, and to every dwelling- 
house, capacious stables are attached. Each pro- 
prietor is allowed to take to the common pastures on 
the Alps in summer as many cows as he can support in 
winter by fodder collected on his own fields. He leaves 
hjs winter-habitation nn^May, and proceeds with his 
family and his cattle, carrying with him some furniture 
and utensils, to the pastures which the snow has just 
left, and where he has his chalet, or hut, for the 
season. He remains there till July, and, during this 
time, descends into the valley for several days to mow 
his hay. At the beginning of July, the snow having 
left the highest pastures, — which are, in some placdifc 
5000 feet above the plain,-^the family proceed to the 
third, or summer-house, where they remain till the 
middle pf August, when the weatlter becomes too cold 
longer tp dwell on. those great heights, and they return 
to the middle pastures wbere the grass has had time to 
spring up agajn in the interval. The mJMescend again 
tp the valley to mow the second crop olTiay. Towards 
the end of October the cattle re descend into the valley, 
where they graze on the short grass that remains until 
the winter obliges them to be shut up i:i the stable, 
where they are fed upon dry fodder. The usual repast 
of th§ family consists of boiled milk, potatoes, and 
cheese of the year; pld cheese is occasionally added by 
way of luxury. Qofjke is very generally drank in the 
morning* 

Among the amusements pf the Swiss mountaineers, 
a kind ftf tfn&tiiftg, which they call schwuigt/t, is a^ 



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favourite one. Regular matches are agreed upon and 
advertised beforehand, and a prize, such as a sheep, or 
a cheese, awarded to the winner. The Innkeeper of 
the village where the match takes place generally 
bestows the prize; tor which he lit well compensated by 
the multitude of customers attracted to the sptft. But 
there are also wrestling mutches on ft larger Scale. 
Certain communes, or districts, or even whole cantons, 
send a challenge to their neighbours to try which has 
the best wrestlers ;— the men of Glartis against the 
mirt of Schwytz, or the Oberland against the Simmeit* 
thai. These matches are conducted with much order 
and regularity, and with no small display of local or 
provincial pride. 

In the eastern cantons, especially among the robust 
mountaineers of Appeuzell, they have a sport some- 
what resembling the hurling of some counties in Bug-* 
land. It consists in balancing a ponderous stone, Of 
fragment of rock, upon the palm of the right hand, 
bent backwards to the shoulder; and, after swinging the 
body to and fro for some time, with one foot raised from 
the ground* sending the fragment, by a sudden exer- 
tion of muscular strength, against a mark Or e¥#f a 
certain limit. 

Firing with a rifle at a target is a commort exercise alt 
over Switzerland. There are societies who bestow prizes 
on the best marksmen. Once a-year each canton sends 6 
certain number of its riflemen to a general meeting 
from every part of the whole confederation, to try their 
skill. These meetings are truly a national festivity, 
and are conducted with great order and solemnity. 

The pastoral cantons of Switzerland are, in theif fdrW 
of government, pure democracies, that is to say, the 
supreme legislative power lies in the landigemeinde, Oi 8 
general assembly of all the male natives of each canton 
who have attained the age of eighteen. The assembly 
meets in a field once a-year, — generally in the spring, 
•—and oftener if particular circumstances require it. 
The beat account of these meetings is given by a 
French traveller, M. Ramond, who attended one H» the 
canton of Olarus. 

These little republics are each not so populous as 
many a parish in London ; they have no public esta- 
blishments, and their internal affairs are very simple. 
All matters more complicated, and affecting the whole 
of Switzerland, are discussed in the Diet, which is held 
in one of the cities, and to which every cant On seeds a 
deputy. These deputies are generally chosen frttm 
among the better-informed men* of the canton. That 
of Schwytz once sent an honest but uninformed peasant. 
When the deputy returned, and appeared before his 
countrymen at the next general assembly, he told them 
that, " if they wished that their interests should he pro- 
perty attended to at the Diet* they mrist not send men 
like himself, who were only acquainted with the eoneerns 
0/ their cattle and their dairies* but merJ who had 
studied ami travelled, who could understand what those 
other gentlemen from the towns talked about, arJd 
could answer them to the purpose, and make themselves 
minded by them*." 

AnUm MM^fttt.^AmnQ the antfent psrfVileiee of 
royalty in tlriMKtrr, nay 1* mentioned the rhfht wbwfli 
tne king* claimed of exercising a control, not always pa- 
ternal, over the marriages of persons ef anv consideration. 
The rolls, for the yefjSJ2')6. exhibit two notifications on this 
subject. The first noufies to the Barons of the Exchequer, 
that Roger Fitz Henry had paid to the king fli6 Arte or imo 
p dfVev. which he had Incurred by taking to wife the widbXv 
ef Hugh Wae : and the other notifies to the sheriff of Uo- 
eota, that the kin? had gton to Brian de Insula, a kfffeffct, 
tfce daughter and heiress of Wrttiam SeJebv, to wife, with 
eH her land, of whieh the sheriff is directed to pat kirn in 
poi*es*ioB, 

4b e Xatisve Hatteiy ef ***#***. 



Reserve. — Persons extremely reserved arc like old ene- 
nielled watches which had painted cavers, That hindered 
your seeing what o'clock it was.— Horace Wtdpole, 

Matrimonial Fnrbeafuhcrs.^Mxti and wife are equally 
concerned to avoid all offences of each other in the begin- 
ning ef their Conversation : every little thing can blast an 
infant blossom ; and the breath o'f the south can shake the 
little rings of the Vine, When first they be«»in to curl like the 
locks of a new weaned b>y . but when, by age and consoli- 
datiotif they Stiffen into the hardness of a stem, and have, 
by the warn* embraces of the sun and the kisses of heaven, 
brought forth their clusters, they can endure the storms of 
the north, and the loud noises' of a tempest, and tet never 
be broken. So are the early unions of an unfixed marriage^ 
Watchful and observant, jealous and busy, inquisitive and 
careful, and apt to take alarm at every unkind word : for 
infirmities do not manifest themselves "in the first scenes, 
but in the succession ef a long society ; and it is not chance 
or Weakness When it appears at first) but it is want Of love 
or prudent e, et it will be so expounded; and that which 
appears ill at first, usually affrights the inexperienced titan 
Or WOtrJan, who makes unequal conjectures, artd fancies 
mighty sorrows by the proportions of the new ami early 
un&ndtfess.-^/ire/Tty Taylor. 

P&ftiordiMry Article in the Ecclesiastical Code of tce- 
Utnd. — Irt the ecclesiastical ode of this country an article 
is extant, singular, perhaps, in its nature, but admirable in 
Its design** Which gives to the bishop, or even to the inferior 
Clergy, the right of preventing any marriage where the 
fomlfe k unable to read. This law, whieh provides so pow- 
erful a pledge for the instruction of the rising generation, 
k still occasionally acted Upon, though, probably, not with 
so much strictness as in former times. The books in the 
possession of the lower classes are generally of a religious 
nature, e great number of such works having been printed 
Itt Iceland daring the last two or three centuries, and tery 
generally circulated through the country. In many parishes 
there h) a email collection of beaks belonging to the church, 
from which, under the superintendence of the priest, each 
family in the district may derive some little addition to its 
means of instruction and improvement.— Sir George Mac- 
famies Truptk in Iceland. 



Peruvian Sepulchres.— At the foot of a high mountain 
Whieh rises from the shore of a small bay called Chacota, 
to the south of Arica, are a great number of anticnt sepul- 
chres. These are covered over, like the adjacent soil, with 
a species of earth Very much impregnated with salt; and to 
this may be doubtless attributed tbo preservation of this 
memento of the unhappy aborigines of the country. In 
1 79#i several of these sepulchres were examined by Don 
Felipe Seuftf a captain in the Spanish navy, who found the 
greater part of tfae bodies in an entire condition, but withered 
W i skeleton, covered with a dark brown skin, and the hair 
of seme Quite of a red colour. The niches in which they 
were deposited were generally cut out of the stone from four 
(o five feet in length ; some being rudely carved, and having 
at file bottom a mat made of rushes. The bodies were 
placed off tins mat, the same attitude being generally ob- 
Serted frt ill. They were seated cross-legged, with the 
bend* frieeed eve* the breast, and so Contracted as te occupy 
the le*si possible space. Others were seated with their 
knees bent up near the mouth, the bands likewise being 
crossed. ever the breast, and all placed with their faces to- 
wards the west. The body of a young man was fc.kcn out, 
that nan been wrapped in cloth, and his features were htill 
distinct: that of a woman was aiso examined whose hair 
w$B in perfect preservation— it was dbout half a yard' m 
ferfjrth, aWd divided info two parts. Some of the' bodies 
weft wrappe* m a sort of coarse woetien cloth from the head 
te the feeff the raowth being tied up: ethers were wrapped 
m eAj£se nets made of " ptta," and all of them had a smeJl 



kefc ijlML ^uud the neck, which was f juud at the time to 
contain Ifftbiug butcaith and dust, whatever it might crigj- 
nafty have beerr? i^arious little pots, made of clay, w«b 



found round* the booies, and jeme larger ones of curious 
ferns. In addition to these, som ^fragments, apparently of 
plates, tfh ear of corn, some pita, and other fritting articles. 
Iter* ftKmd > afe* sortie stoall pieces ef coffer cat ro tto 
efl^tfeotafc In Ylo, and other parts etf this eoaet, those 



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[Entrance to Dove-Dale.'J 



Of the varied scenery for which Derbyshire is so much 
celebrated, its numerous dales form the most beautiful 
and interesting portion. The first of the number, in 
sue as well as beauty, is the far-famed and romantic 
Dove-dale, so called from the river Dove, which pours 
its waters through it. On entering this enchanting 
spot, the sudden change of scenery, from that of the 
surrounding country, is powerfully striking. The 
brown heath, or richly-cultivated meadow, is exchanged 
for rocks abrupt and vast, which rise on each side, their 
grey sides harmonized by mosses, lichens, and yew- 
trees, and their tops sprinkled with mountain-ash. The 
hills that inclose this narrow dell are very precipitous, 
and bear on their sides fragments of rock that, in the 
distance, look like the remains of ruined castles. After 
proceeding a little way, a deep and narrow valley 
appears, into the recesses of which the eye is prevented 
from penetrating, by the winding course it pursues and 
by the shutting in of its precipices which fold into each 
other and preclude all distant view. A further pro- 
gress exhibits an increase of majesty and rudeness in 
the scene. The objects which, at a distance, appeared 
to have been ruins, are found to be rude pyramids of 
rock and grand isolated masses, ornamented with ivy, 
rising in the middle of the vale. The rocks which 
inclose the dale, forcing their scattered and uncovered 
heads into the clouds, overhang the narrow path that 
winds through its dark recesses, and, frownjng in 
craggy grandeur, and shaggy with the dark fqj^ge that 

Sows out of the chinks and clings to the asperities of 
e rocks, form a scene unrivalled in romantic effect. 
The mountain, which arises in the back-ground of the 
view given above, ( winch, with the one in the following 
page, are engraved frofc drawings made purposelylfy 
Mr. R. W. Buss,) is known by the name of T0rp 
Cloud, On proceeding about a mile into the vale, 



fantastic forms and uncouth combinations are exhi- 
bited, in vast detached mural masses, while the sides 
of the dell are perforated by many small natural 
caverns which are difficult of access. 

The length of Dove-dale is nearly three miles, and 
it is in no part more than a quarter of a mile wide, 
while in some places it almost closes, scarcely leaving 
room for the passage of its narrow river. On the right, 
or Derbyshire side of the Dale, the rocks are more bare 
of vegetation than on the opposite or Staffordshire side, 
where they are thickly covered with a fine hanging 
wood of various trees and odoriferous shrubs and plants. 
TEe frequent changes in the motion and appearance of 
the transparent Dove, which is interspersed with small 
islands and little waterfalls, contribute to diversify the 
scenery of this charming spot ; while the rugged, dissi- 
milar, and frequently grotesque and fanciful appearance 
of the rocks, gives to it that peculiar character by which 
it is distinguished from every other in the kingdom. 
The view in the following page is of a very remarkable 
scene of this description, and cannot fail to be imme- 
diately recognized by every one who has had the plea- 
sure of visiting the spot. 

The Dove has long been famous amoro anglers ; old 
Izaak Walton, his disciple Cotton, aflRir Humphry 
Davy, have all celebrated it, not only for the sport it 
afforded them, but for its natural charms. 

We cannot dismiss a notice ofi#his very interesting 
spot without mentioning a peculiarly graceful custom 
which still lingers in its neighbourhood, — one of those 
poetical usages of the olden time which have almost 
departed from the country, and the loss of which none 
would regret more than ourselves, did we not consider 
it a necessary result of that risen standard in the every 
day enjoyments of the people, which, by affording many 
objects to interest the mind that did not formerly < 



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and by diminishing the distance between the pl< 
of ordinary and festival days, weakens the stimulus to 
their observance. The custom which gave occasion to 
this remark is thus described by Rhodes in his * Peak 
Scenery.' 

" An ancient custom still prevails in the village of 
Tissington, to which, indeed, it appears to be confined, 
for I have not met with any thing of a similar descrip- 
tion in any other part of Derbyshire. It is denominated 
• Well-flowering/ and Holy Thursday is devoted to 
the rites and ceremonies of this elegant custom. This 
day is regarded as a festival, and all the wells in the 
j lace, five in number, are decorated jvith wreaths and 
garlands of newly- gathered flowers, disposed in various 
devices. Sometimes boards are used, which are cut 
into the figure intended to be represented, and covered 



THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



108 



with moist day, into which the stems of the flowers are 
inserted to preserve their freshness ; and they are so 
arranged as to form a beautiful mosaic work, often 
tasteful in design, and vivid in colouring. The boards 
thus adorned are so placed in the spring that the water 
appears to issue from amongst beds of flowers. On 
this occasion the villagers put on their best attire, and 
open their houses to their friends. There is a service 
at the church, where a sermon is preached ; afterwards 
a procession takes place, and the wells are visited in 
succession; the psalms for the day, the epistle and 
gospel are read, one at each well, and the whole con- 
cludes with a hymn, which is sung by the church* 
singers, accompanied by a band of music. After this, 
the people separate, and the remainder of the day is 
s;>ent in rural sports and holiday pastimes." 



PAINTING IN THB THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 

It appears that in the thirteenth century the cultivation 
of the fine arts received a new impulse from the liberal 
patronage of Henry III., — a weak king, but a person 
of cultivated taste for the period in which he lived, and 
whose profusion was not always so unworthily displayed 
as we might irrtsthf the complaints of the barons only 
were heard. The remaining sculptures of this period 
exhibit a decided improvement ; painting on glass was 
much cultivated, and. there are still preserved in the 
British Museum illuminated manuscripts, which show 
that the art of illuminating had been brought to great 
perfection. It appears that painting was cultivated 
with equal diligence and success. Henry III. kept 
several painters constantly in his employ ; among whom, 
William a monk of Westminster, William the Floren- 
tine, and Walter of Colchester, seem to have been par- 
ticularly distinguished. By these, and others, several 



historical paintings were executed in the royal palaces ; 
representing either subjects from the Old ana New Testa- 
ments, or events in the life of the kings. The following 
order, with regard to such a painting, has an increased 
interest from referring to circumstances in the life of 
Henry III. which history does not, to our knowledge, 
mention. The king's treasurer, and Edward of West- 
minster, are commanded to pay to William the Painter, 
a monk of Westminster, his charges for painting at 
Westminster, in the wardrobe, where the king was 
accustomed to wash his hands, a certain picture, repre- 
senting the king rescued by his dogs from the seditions 
which were plotted against him by his subjects. Dated 
1256. An order, dated a few years previous, commands 
Edward of Westminster to cause the images of the 
Apostles to be painted around St. Stephen's Chapel, 
(thepresent House of Commons,) and the Judgment 
Da^bn the western side ; and in like manner to causa 
the figure of fhe Blessed Virgin Mary to be painted oil 



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a teawet, * that they may be ready at thf king's «raitff 

thertw 

It appears that thf eipldits of King Riehard I. # 
id the third crusade, afforded favourite subjects for 
both poetry add painting during the reign of Henry III, 
The king had such subjects painted in a chamber of 
hiii palace at Clarendon, and in the Tower of London, 
and in one of hw chamber! at Westminster, which was 
thesjce caUed the Antioch Chamber, — Antioch having 
been the scene of the exploits commemorated. Beneath 
the grand historical picture in this chamber, the king 
had directed a picture to be painted representing birds, 
lions, and other beasts. Better consideration induced 
him to countermand this order, and to direct that the 
unoccupied space should be painted green, after the 
fashion of a curtain or hanging, so that the effect of 
the great history uvght be left unimpaired. 

The following eunous order, issued in 1*236, though 
it scarcely exemplifies the state of the fine arts, may be 
noticed in this place. The treasurer is commanded to 
cause, against the king's arrival, the great ehainber at 
Westminster to be painted with a good green eolour, 
after the fashion of a curtain ; and, in the great gable 
of the same ehamber, near the door, this device to be 
painted, " Ke ne done kcue tine tte prent ke desir*." 
The king's small wardrobe is directed to be painted in 
the same manner. 

As this order was of an earlier date than the former, 
we may be allowed thence to infer a gradual improve- 
ment in the royal taste for internal decoration. It ap- 
pears that the taste for painting extended so rapidly, 
that, in the nttt tfetttury, not only churches and palaces 
but private houses were decorated with them. So 
when Chancer twoki from his poetical dream, he ex- 
presses his stirprls* that all the pay objects he had asea 
in bis sleep were vanished, and he saw nothing, 
* Metre en the *ik tiki rertraiture 
Of tieravmvn, fcatike* mud hotmdift, 
And haft dire «0 I utl ef Woundfe/' 

And sUhewfh, kt MAsideriftg this d real description of 
the poet's bwd*ehafrib*f, the peculiar refinement of his 
taste mitat be taken into the account, it appears that in 
his lime drawing htd feme to be considered a necessary 
part of an aeeorrtptiehed gentleman's education. Chaucer 
namee tt* following among the acquirements of the 
squire, m fcftlfflt's soft *— 

** -~ fisaalft hi **tt6 make, etd w>R >***#, 
Jest* aed tie awafl**, and #*N pori.it and wtHe. n 

It la abserabJe lh*t f m moat of the rtryat orders of 
this fitotafy latent k tasked to produee its works within 
a given, iftd etUm a very short, time ;— generally 
" against ihe king's arrival. Nor were such labours, 
even in the highest departments of art, always matters 
of voluntary undertaking. Among other instances, the 
following may be mentioned: — Edward III., in his 
snaJttv ht the speedy ompletloD of the painting in the 
chapel of hfe pateett* tssaed a precept, dated 18th March, 
M&tr, to Hugh deft. Atban, his chief painter, com 
sftaadtog htm to impress all th* painters in the counties 
df Middleee*, K«nt, Essex, Surrey, and Sussex, to 
eajktoet them to Westminster, and to keep them In his 
sevvk* §o long as should be necessary ; and, apprehend- 
ing that these Would not be sufficient, a similar order 
*M given for the impressment of all the painters in the 
eWntteft of Lincoln, Northampton, Oxford. Warwick, 
LftoAter, Cambridge, Huntingdon, and Norfolk. There 
Is other evidence to show that personal liberty was com- 
praeaJeed by the attainment of great skill in any art 
whieh iOttkl minister to the royal taste or convenience ; 
«nd talent, instead of leading to that distinction, inde- 
pendence, and wealth, which are its due, conducted its 
to grind in the prison-house. On* mjtbe 

* Ha who ha«, and does not give, 
Will But, when lus wan:*, receive, 



Re.k before us it dated the tth of J«hn, 97th June, 
If 04 f and notifies to Robert da Vipont* that Thomas 
the arrow-maker had bean eomutitted by the king to 
the custody of Hugh de Nevill, Thomas de Sanford, 
and John Fitz Hugh, who had undertaken not to let 
him depart from court without the royal licence, and 
had engaged thai he should make six arrows tor the 
king's use every day, except Sunday. 



MUSIC tOn THfc MANY.-No. III. 

With the immoral reign of Charles II. an entirely 
different order of jhingn commenced. The opponents 
of the Puritans then had their own way, and could no 
longer complain of restrictions put upon piping and 
dancing, balls and plays. Songs again appeared in 
countless numbers, but they were too often indecent 
and immoral, and calculated rather for the atmosphere 
of a witty but corrupt court, than for the purer air of 
the country, or for the enjoyment of the people at large. 
Charles himself was a song writer, and a piece of his is 
extant, beginning, ■— 

<* I pats eH My heats ra a shady old grave ;" 
" which," says a aarCaatie erltic, " though by no means 
remarkable for poetical merit, has certainly enough lor 
the composition of a king V 

Some of the songs, however, written during this 
reign by Sedley, Rochester, Dorset, Sheffield, and 
others, to say nothing of those of the great Dry den, 
were master-pieces in their way. and unexceptionable as 
to morals. There is particularly a sea song, written by 
Lord Dorset the night (it is said) before an engage- 
ment with the Dutch, which, from its admirable ease, 
flow, and tenderness, became at once popular with all 
f« W« quote the first two vetses as a specimen. 

* *# efi yea Mies net at lead 
VTt flaw at sea it*lfh*y 
Sal list weald have yea a ee We e i 

Hew hmd M Is a> wrtte. 
A* Muses m*r, awd Meptaaa lea, 
We man Hneiifv le eriw to tea. 

f« ffceiejfc the tfawsj sliauM prevt kind, 

AndtMsw/eiaaty Wei*} 
f et »f fwagb Jteptewe mm the wiad 

Te aeve the state mma j 



&*•)**, saw, sad mk* and we, 
vp ewe «*w* eat sales el ass. 
Wim*fc,#W 



Indeed f ne short* pkstaa Of most of the poets of the 
time of Charlea II. hod a rhythm and cadence particu- 
larly well attittd to musie. They were, in short, what 
th£ Italians call cantabitc, or fit to be sung. Besides 
writing words for songs, Charlea understood a little 
music, and could sing the tenor part in an easy duet. 
He frequently amused himself in this way with a good 
singer on the establishment of the Chapel Royal, his 
brother, the Duke of York (afterwards James II.), ac- 
companying them on the guitar. 

In the succeeding reigns, with (he growth of cur 
literature, there was a considerable increase in song 
writing ; most of our poets of eminence, and some who 
had no eminence except what they obtained in that 
way, devoting themselves occasionally to the composi- 
tion of lyrical pieces. Prior, Rowe, Steele, Philips, 
Parnell, Oay, and others, contributed a stock which 
might advantageously be referred to by the composers 

•Hitsea, 

f Dr. Johnson remark* on the circumManee* nnder which tbit 
song was written :— a Srldom any inlend.il atoiy i» wholly true. I 
hav« heard from the late Karl of Orrery, who was iikviy to have 
ttiod beiweitary setefligeBe*, that Umi Ourart had been a week 
eanaoyed upon it, aad ealy rrapnehwl or finiahed it an the rmtrw 
raale eveaiisx* An* ev9a ttuit, whatever it may MiUraet from his 
rarillry, leaves him his cutinttft*." This battle was fought io 
1065, during the first Dutch war. 



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TOK rttf!W MAtlAKfttfe. 



of our own times. The ftftiura) and tlegaqt, the 
humorous uml pathetic Gay. shows, perhaps, to most 
ajlteutege. Out of hit t>*JUd*» * fllaetoyed Susan,' 
emu ntver be forgotten, nnd some other* of Jfi* wo 
almost equally admirable, partieularly that beginning,*** 

« Twm when timem iw lonring 

With hoJow blasts of wind, 
A damsel lay deploring* 

All on a rock reclined. 
Wide <»Vrth«t foaming bittaM 

Bite ca«t a wistful Uok $ 
llec head vis crowned sntk e/ilfcwi, 

Tun* trembled o'er thu l**ik *." 

Music, however, was far from keeping paee with poetry. 
There was, indeed, at the latter part of the seventeenth 
ani beginning of the eighteenth century, that admirable 
composer Puicell, Henry Carey, aud one or two others, 
but neatly all the new songs produced were not accom- 
panied by new music, but set to old tunes. It is a 
curious fact, that when Gay brought out his * Beggars' 
Opera ' not one of the airs to the seventy-two songs iu 
that piece was composed for the purpose. They were 
all music already considered old. It is to be regretted 
that many of those airs have lost their original simpli- 
city ; but, as Dr. Burney observes, music never remains 
long simple when it has once been introduced upon the 
stage. 

Another subject of regret in the view we take, is, 
that neither the words nor the music of the good new 
pieces that appeared seem to have been so spread 
among the great body of the people as were those of 
the times of Elizabeth, James I., aud Charles I. There 
is, however, one memorable exception in the case of 
Henry Carey, who struck into a new path, and in his 
* Sally iu our Alley,' of which he wrote both the words 
and the music, obtained at once a popularity (using 
that word in its proper sense) which he has never lost 
and never will lose. This song was soon known from 
one end of the kingdom to the other, — like those of the 
olden time the ploughman whistled it " over the fur- 
rowed land," aud it was " sung to the wheel and sung 
unto the pail/' Addison, one of the most elegant 
writers of that or any other period, shared in the taste 
of the people ; this swuet simple song was an especial 
favourite with him. 

In the reigns of George I. and George II., Just as it 
has happened under the third and fourth monarchs of 
that name, there was not wanting a mob of fashionable 
easy writers to inflict on the public deluges of namby- 
pamby, mellifluous song and verse, without the shadow 
of a sentiment or meaning. Pope has most happily 
parodied these fashionable sing-songs in the* character 
of *• a person of quality/' in those well known verses 
beginning, — 

" Fluttering spread tby purple pinions, 
Gduilo Cupid, o'«r my bract,*' 

in which he condenses all their classico-pastoral absur- 
dities, and surpasses all their honeyed sweetness to the 
utter discomfiture of common sense. To stop the 
march of nonsense in the way of songs, wis more, how* 
ever, than the wit of Pope could achieve. At the same 

! time his friend Swift employed his exc \ te humour 
and tact in ridiculing the affected musical jargon which 
then prevailed in fashionable life t. 

The Italian opera, first introduced in the reign of 
Anne, though it did not set an example of having good 
words for gocd music, improved the musical taste of 
mm* of the rich and great ; but from circumstances, 
not necessary to explain, it could scarcely exercise an 

% influence on the people. The opera, moreover, had an 
evil effect, in this way— it led a certaiu class of persons 

• Tan \nece wis set to musk by the great Handel, and after* 
wsrds by Jackson of Kxeteto * 

f Seelus'CaataU. 



to believe that no voea! music eouM be geM W ri te s ft 
were Italian, or at least foreign. We are toot so absurd! 
as to deny the surpassing excellence of Itttfan soil*, 
but we may doubt whether the majority of these who 
reasoned in that manner were not merely led Vy fashion, 
and insensible to the real beauties of ajl music ; while, 
it is certain, the prejudice tended # o dam up tjie stream, 
of English melody. The great composer Handel, at 
the beginning of the last century, began, and continued 
for many years, to exercise a good influence on the 
nation to a very considerable extent. His German 
style of music allied itself more readily with the ohi 
English style, which, no doubt, it improved. His com- 
positions found their way to most parts of the kingdom, 
and the more simple of them became the delight of ajl 
amateur performers, and were played in all the gentle- 
men's houses at that period. But we can scarcely trace 
the good tar-te lower. Interminable ballads, with the 
most monotonous of tunes, were, at that time, the 
favourites of the people. 

Since the days of Handel we have had a few good song 
writers, and several good native composers, such as Dr. 
Boyce, Dr. Arne, Linley, Jackson of Exeter, Shield. 
Dr. Arnold, &c, &c. Linley and Jackson both former! 
their style upon the melodies of our best old English 
masters, and for this reason we should like to see their 
works reproduced and diffused. Until the great excite- 
ment of the last war, however, when Dibdin published 
his numerous and admirable sea songs, there was little 
in the way of music that descended to, and laid hold 
of, the poorer classes. In days still more recent the 
delightful lyrics of Mr. Thomas Moore have emulated 
the popularity of Dibdin's, and have contributed largely 
to raise the taste of the people ; though, it must not 
be forgotten, that the airs to the greater part of his 
songs are Irish, not English. It appears, indeed, that 
both the Scotch and Irish of all classes have retained 
their old melodies with a much more careful love than 
the English have bestowed on theirs. 

Much has been said about the inherent bad taste of 
English people. It has been assumed that nothing but 
the common-place and the vulgar, in music, had any 
charms for them ; and hence the theatres, and other 
places of amusement, have given them the vulgar and 
the common-place to repletion. It has hitherto been 
the fate of the great body of the people to have their 
intellects and tastes unfairly and disparagingly judged 
of, and to have the really good in music, and the rest 
of the fine arts, kept out of their sight and reach. 
Many writers upon taste, who pretended to metaphysics 
and all the loftier branches of philosophy, have asserted 
that the refined strains of music please the uncultivated 
ear much less than the dissonant hubbub to which k 
has been accustomed, — and that, in short, the ruder 
the music, the more it delights the barbarian. 

Yet the writer of these observations has had an op* 
port unity of witnessing the directly eoutrary effeet 
among the Turks, who are, at least, a semi-barbarous 
people, and who, up to that time, Had only heard the 
most primitive and utterly barbarous music. The pre* 
sent Sultan, in the course of his military reforms, en- 
gaged a certain number of Italian musicians to form 
the nucleus of his bands, and to instruct a set of young 
Turks in their art. Whenever these men played on 
parade, or at a review, at Constantinople, the whole 
city ran after them — ail classes were immediately en- 
raptured with the rich, refined music of the Italian 
school, and found their own shrill, screaming pipes, 
clanging cymbals cracked drums, and coarse oar- 
montea, insufferable in comparison. Now, taken gene- 
rally, the humblest mechanic in England is a move 
refitted and intellectual being than the highest Tur% • 
and it has, therefore, created no surprise in the mind 
of the writer to meet, as he frequently has done since 



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[March 22, 1814. 



the somewhat remarkable improvement among the 
street musicians in London, with a crowd of working 
man paying eager attention to the pieces of Mozart and 
other great masters, and declaring they could listen to 
such music all the night long. 

The fault is not witn the people. Good taste has been 
confined, by high prices, to the " high places ;" though it 
has not always over-bounded there. The theatres and 
other public places have administered to bad taste : little 
or nothing except trash has been open to the people ; and 
they have been deemed barbarians because they took what 
fell in their way, and showed no love for what they never 
had an opportunity of knowing. We trust, however, that, 
for the future, good music, like good literature, may be 
made accessible to all ; and that, as a mode of enlarging 
the cheap enjoyments of a poor man's life, even every 
village-school in the kingdom may possess the means of 
teaching (as they are taught at similar establishments 
in several districts of Germany, in Bohemia, and even 
in me snow-covered, poverty-stricken island of Iceland) 
the art of reading musical notation and the first rudi- 
ments of music. Plain singing is what we should re- 
commend for the schools of the poor. Vocal music is 
not only the most natural to man, but it is also the 
most pleasant, and the easiest to be procured. The 
effects that are to be obtained, particularly by children's 
voices, are exquisite in the extreme. In the churches 
of Russia, where no instrumental music is allowed, it 
is a common thing to hear the voices of hundreds of 
young people who have been merely well drilled as to 
time and tune, blending in indescribable harmony, and 
making an impression that scarcely any other sort of 
music can equal. Indeed, according to the great com- 
poser, Haydn, the strongest musical impression he ever 
received, though his life was passed among music, was 
made on him by the charity-children, at their general 
assembly in St. Paul's Cathedral, singing all together a 
psalm to a plain melody. He said he was so power- 
fully affected by this that he should remember it, and 
thrill at the remembrance, till death. 

Native simplicity ought principally to be kept in 
view. " Vocal music," said an eminent Italian critic, 
more than a hundred years ago, " ought to imitate the 
natural language of the human feelings and passions 
rather than the warbling of Canary birds which our 
singers now-a-days affect so vastly to mimic with their 
quaverings and boasted cadences*." 



Dress and Cloths in the Thirteenth Century.— The writers 
of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries bitterly complain 
of the extravagance and luxury of dresses and fashions at 
that period. As this has at all times afforded matter of 
satire and animadversion, such censures would not demand 
particular attention were their justice not established by 
particular statements. Matthew Paris states that at the 
marriage of the eldest daughter of Henry III., with Alex- 
ander III. of Scotland, in 1251, the Kins of England was 
attended, on the day of the ceremonial, by a thousand 
knights, uniformly dressed in silk robes, and the next day 
the same knights appeared in new dresses no less splendid 
and expensive ; and, in a following reign, it is stated that 
Sir John Arundel had no fewer than fifty-two complete 
suits of cloth of gold. This costly material, which is scarcely 
now an article of European consumption, though in con- 
siderable use among the splendid barbarians of tne East, is 
mentioned in one of the Close Rolls for 1244, when Edward, 
the son of Otho, is commanded to buy a cape of red silk, 
with a broad orfraies, well embroidered with gold, or to have 
one made in all haste if he cannot find one to buy. In 1 204, 
King John sends greeting to Reginald of Cornhill, directing 
him to allow the lady, the queen, his wife, to have a fur of 
meniver, a small brass pot, and eight towels, the cost of 
which should be repaid at the Exchequer. An order upon 
one tradesman for such different articles seems to indicate 
bow much less trades were subdivided formerly than at 

• L'Abbate Gravina. 



present In a Close Roll, dated November 2nd, 1252, 
Edward of Westminster is ordered to give directions, with- 
out delay, for a cloth to be made twelve feet in length and 
six feet in breadth, the field to be studded with pearls, and 
on all parts of the cloth to be designs from the Old and New 
Testament. Philip Luvel is referred to for more particular 
directions, but no intimation is given of the purpose for 
which this splendid cloth was intended. 



Cinnamon and Cama. — These two words, which dasig. 
nate different qualities of the prepared bark of the cinna- 
mon-tree, are both found in Exodus xxx., 23, 25. The 
cinnamon-tree is a native of a tropical climate, and the pre- 
pared bark was probably conveyed to Palestine from the 
Oriental Archipelago, by means of Phoenician merchants, 
(Genesis xxxvii., 25.) Herodotus informs us, that the won) 
kinnamon was adopted by the Greeks from the Phoenicians, 
and in all likelihood the Hebrew term kinnemon or kanam 
has a similar origin. The country which produces an arti^e 
of commerce very generally gives it the name which it 
obtains in other parts of the world ; hence we must look to 
the language of a country which produces cinnamon for the 
origin of the terms that are employed to designate it by con- 
sumers. In the Malay language, cinnamon is designated 
by the words kayee manis (sweet wood), from which the 
Hebrew and Greek names of this spice may have been de- 
rived, as the cinnamon-tree is found in great abundance in 
the Malay Islands. Kannema, signifying sweet wood, is 
the Malabar name of this spice. In the Persian language 
it is called kinnamon, and in some parts of India it is known 
by the appellation of dar Chime, which signifies the wood 
of China. Cinnamon was for a long time imported into 
Europe under the name of " China wood.'* The Malay 
word kayee (wood) seems to have been the origin of tb« 
Hebrew word kiddah, which is translated cassia, and the 
Latin term by which this quality of cinnamon is known is 
commerce is cassia-lignea. In ancient times the unpteied 
shoots or branches were conveyed to Europe, and sold wood 
and bark together ; and hence, in all probability, is the 
origin of the adjunct " lignea." Moses was directed 
(Exodus xxx., 23, 25) to take of myrrh, sweet cinnamon, 
sweet calamus, cassia, and olive oil, certain quantities, and 
thereof to " make an oil of holy ointment, compound, after 
the art of the apothecary : it shall be an holy anointing oiL" 
How was the art of the apothecary exercised in preparing 
the holy ointment or oil ? Perhaps it was prepared by t 
process similar to that which the natives of India have from 
time immemorial practised to prepare odoriferous oils. The 
aromatic substances employed are coarsely powdered and 
put into an earthen vessel along with a certain quantity of 
fixed oil. Water, fully sufficient to cover the aromatics, is 
then added, and the vessel placed upon a fire to boil. 
During the process of ebullition the essential oil of the aro- 
matics unites with the fixed oil, by which means it is im- 
pregnated with the peculiar odour of the seeds, barks, or 
other substances employed. Cinnamon is mentioned in the 
Song of Solomon, and in Proverbs, vu.; and cassia in Ezekiel 
xxvii., 1 9. The " sweet cane," mentioned in Isaiah xliii., 
24, and Jeremiah vi. 20, in all probability is only another 
designation of cinnamon. Both passages imply an article 
of importation, and, therefore, not of native growth. The 
cinnamon which is imported from the 'peninsula of India, 
Sumatra, Java, &c, and the inferior quality of cinnamon, 
which is exported from Ceylon, are known in commerce by 
the name of cassia. For example, in 1816 Messrs. Palmer 
and Co., Calcutta, purchased the " rejected " cinnamon of the 
harvest of 1815 in Ceylon, which amounted to 34.672 lbs., 
for which they paid one sicca rupee two anas per lb. (about 
two shillings). Under the denomination of cassia the aboft. 
quantity of cinnamon was no doubt imported into the 
ports of Europe, as the purchasers were prohibited fro© 
exporting it from India as cinnamon. 



V Th* Oftet of tk# Society for ttws Difbtioa of Uotfal Kaowkdfofc* 
69, Linoola'i-Ian Fi#W«. 



LONDON : -CHARLES KK10HT, SS, LUDOATK STREET, 



Friatod by William Cttwit, Dtko Stmt, Umbotfc. 



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127J 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[March 29, 1834. 



MURILLO. 



[' Tlitt Young Beggar,' from Murillo.] 



Bartolomeo ffiiTEBAN Murillo, the most celebrated 
painter of the Spanish school, was born at or near 
Seville, in the year 1618. Having exhibited a very 
early inclination for the art, he was placed under the 
instruction of his uncle, Juan del Castillo. The 
favourite subjects of this artist were fairs and markets ; 
and several pieces of this description were executed by 
Murillo previously to their separation, which took place 
Vol, III. 



in consequence of the removal of the uncle to Cadiz. 
The youth, being thus left to himself, was obliged to 
earn his subsistence by painting banners and small 
pictures for exportation to America. This sort of work 
did not, perhaps, advance him in the points most essen- 
tial ; but, as he had full employment, he acquired 
facility, and began to distinguish himself as an able 
colourist. 

a 



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{Mififff, 



5¥« lw* wot kow fong Mwitlo coaiiamgi thus to 



employ himself; but he was still very young when he which the Spanish school had attained, and the real 



happened to obtain a view of some works or' Pedro de 



Mova, who wa# then pawn* through Seville m Jus studying the work* of ftrejgn Hasten, he was not their 



way to Cadiz. In the latter days oT Vandyke's life, 
De Moya had studied under him, and his pictures were 
painted ip the style of that great eriisi, whom Murillo 
was thus inspired with a strong desire to imitate. This 
circumstance gave a new impulse to his zeal, and, per- 
haps, redeemed him from employing all his life in 
painting the paltry articles required for the colonial 
market. From De Moya he received such instructkms 
a* the United stay of that artist in Seville permitted; 
and, from his conversation, Murillo probably imbibed 
the strong desire he afterwards ielt of visiting Italy to 
improve himself by studying the works of the great 
masters. But his means were quite inadequate to meat 
the expenses of such a journey. A strong desire for 
improvement is, however, not easily discouraged by 
difficulties ; and the youth, collecting all his reaourcee, 
bought a Mod quantity of canvass, which he divided 
iato a number of small squares, upon which he painted 
flowers and subjects of devotion, and with the produce 
of the sale set out upon his journey. 

On bis arrival at Madrid, Murillo waited upon Vdmv 
que*, his countryman, and communicated his plana to 
hi no. Velasquez was interested by the talents and seal 
which the youth exhibited, and treated him with much 
kindness and consideration. Under the impression that 
the Escurial and the palaces at Madrid contained suffi- 
cient objects for useful study, this kind friend did not 
entourage Murillo's desire of proceeding to Italy. lie 
obtained for him opportunities of studying many works 
of Titian, Paul Veronese, Rubens, and Vandyke, which 
belonged to the king and nobles of Spain, and several 
of which were copied by the young artist under his 
superintendence and instruction. Spanish authors are 
apt to exult in the fact, that Murillo never went out 
or his own country for improvement, not eufficieutly 
considering the obligations he was under to the many 
works of the great masters which Madrid .contained. 
Without the assistance of the example afforded by his 
great predecessors, however original his genius, the 
painter could never have attained the rank in his art at 
which he ultimately arrived. 

After a stay of three years at Madrid, Murtita re- 
turned, in 1645, to Seville, with a mind enriched by 
study, formed by practice, and stored with toe good 
counsels of Velasquez. At Seville his talents soon be- 
came known and properly appreciated. lit was em* 
ployed very shortly after his arrival to paint the little 
cloister of St. Francis ; and the manner in which tine 
work was executed filled his countrymen with astonish- 
ment and admiration. His picture of the Death of 
Santa Clara and that of St. Jamas distributing Alms 
crowned his reputation. In the first he appeared equal 
to Vandyke as a colourist ; and, in the second, a rival 
of Velasquez. They obtained him a multitude of com- 
missions, which soon produced bim a fortune mora than 
independent. Murillo was one of those happy men 
whom success cannot spoil or injure. He never became 
careleas. He gradually perfected hie manner by giving 
mors boldness to his pencil, without abandoning that 
swe etness of colouring which distinguished him from 
alt his rivals. During his long life he was constantly 
employed, and enriched the churches of Seville, and 
other cities in the south of Spain, with numerous works, 
ffaving been invited to Cadiz to paint the grand altar 
t>f the Capuchins, he there executed his famous picture 
t»f the Marriage of St. Catherine. While employed on 
this picture, and when It was nearly completed, he met 
whh an accident of which he continued to feel the 
ttftVts until his death, waijh took place at Seville, in 



The works of Murnto afford proo/of theexnellejceto 



character of its artists; for although he profited by 



imitator His style was" pectriiariy his own. He 
gnpfol his objects from, nature, but com bined them 
ideally. His back-grounds are generally confound and 
indistinct, and the parts very much blended together 
with a loose pejcfl and indeterminate, execution ; trot 
moat of them have a very pleasing effect, and perhaps 
the principal objects acquire a portion of their finish 
and beauty from this very circumstance. To the 
greatest merit as an historical painter, Murillo joined 
equal exceilenee in flowers and landscape. But perhaps 
it is in small pictures of familiar ! 'c, such as thai from 
which our wood-cut is taken, th t this eminent artist 
moat oompletely succeeded. M.uy of his altar-pieces 
are very large, some of them sixteen or eighteen feet 
high, and containing an immense number of figures, as 
is required by such subjects as Christ feeding the 
multitude, St. John preaching, St. James distributing 
alma, Ac. But in such pictures, skilfully wrought as 
they are, he does not appear to have penetrated the 
secret of grandeur of style. The expression n often of 
a mean character in the most dignified personages; 
but in the amiable and tender sentiments, which are 
expressed by the silent action of the human features* he 
was eminently succeasrul. By the originality of bis 
talent, Murillo claims rank among the first painters of 
e*erv school. We do not find in him the dignity of 
Raphael, the grandeur of Carecci, nor the grace of 
Correggio ; but, as an imitator of nature, if he is some- 
times trivial and incorrect, he is always true, — always 
natural ; and, in the sweetness, brilliancy, harmony, and 
fi nehnem of bis colouring, all his defects are forgotten. 
We must here observe that at different periods the 
style of Murillo was of two different characters. The 
first distinguished for its energetic and living truth; 
the second for its softness, gentleness, and brilliancy of 
ehjero-acuro, though still combined with great truth 
of exp re s si o n 

The picture of which in the foregoing page we 
have given a copy, was in the ancient royal collection 
at Versailles. It is called the " Young Beggar," and 
was fiwr feet one inch in height, by three feet three 
inches in width. It is painted in his first style. The 
description in the splendid national work called the 
1 Muaee Frencais,* from which we have copied our en- 
graving, says :-*>* We must not examine tne design of 
this picture with too much rigour. The subject may 
induce us to pardon some slight inaccuracies : it is the 
simplicity of the attitude, the relief given to the figure, 
the brilliancy of the light, the firmness of the touch, 
the vigour of the general tone, which render it a 
cktf-d'vuwe. The head and all the naked parte are 
fun of life In the ragged clothes, which only half 
cover (he body, the touch is bold and broad : in the 
fieeh of the knees, legs and met, the careful artist has, 
on the contrary, expressed the most minute details. 
The roughness of the akin attests the idleness of this 
unhappy child ; bis morals are in some measure written 
upon the aquabdnees of his limbs. We see that the 
healthy wave never refreshes them. Such were in effect 
the habits of this proud, magnanimous, and iodo-eut 
nation whom Providence had loaded with its favours, 
and whose institutions have rendered the greater part 
of these benefits useless — who consume much and 
labour little — and amongst whom so many wretches 
find this state of idleness the consolation of their 
misery. Some fruit in an old basket, an earthen 
pitcher, a few shrimps scattered on the ground, ere tile 
preparations or remains of a frugal repast. Bvery 
object is painted with as much art as the figure. T%e 
whole produces the moat perfect illusion * 



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Four fine picture* of this artist were " given," by lb* 
city of Seville f$ Marsha* Sotdt* who made a present «tf 
them tci Loui*KVHI. f nt l&U* bet tfey wem among 
those works of art, the FeStfcotfeif of whwft wa* «fc* 
inatided by the Attk» k* 181 *« 



Gniy Me P«*^=The" fffedcrarinanf eta* ef (Sriy** mattl* 
«ays Mathias, *a* ft strong attarbme« to f time, to " ths 
exercise of right reason/* ft* he esed to&ttl if, ht the Wonlt 
of Plato ; and if aftf man were mentioned to trim a* a maw 
of auilitv, of genu** er of science; he* always inquired, •* I* 
he good for anything **' No admiration of genftltf, no 
deference to loavrtifttf. esmfd subdue or even soften hi* *v6r« 
t ion to the vioie^i? Iff the protf igate, and the ttnsrieeteiedi 



This singular nanw I* the* representative of a* sfngohtf 
a theory-. Dr. HahrienWfM* its inventor, suppose* that 
diseases are to be ertred by those remedies Which would 
cause the same diseases hi healthy persons; provided 
that these remedies are glveu In doses as minute a* 
possible. This paradoxical system derives it* iurnle 
from the similarity eff tin* medicine to the disease*} 
homoion signifying in Greek thfc same, and pathd* * 
symptom. Dr. Hahnemann, who is a German* has 
written several elaborate Works in defence of hH» 
ingenious theory ; one of them Is called ' Organoft def 
Heilkuust,'— Orgauoii of tlie Healing Art,— ami wa* 
printed at Dresden in 4824. We shall give a brief 
notion of his mode of reasoning. 

The author observes that, from the remotest tittles* 
physicians, and even the vulgar, have hud some glimpse* 
of "the true system,— the real art of healing. Thus, In 
the book on Epidemic Diseases, Which is attributed to 
Hippocrates, a Case of cholera is mentioned whlcli Was 
cured by hellebore* a Bubstancc which is callable of 
causing cholera". The sweating -sicklies* raged id the 
fifteenth century, with tinchcckcd fatality, tfrttil «4i- 
flirifica were administered * rffter which* as Seitfiert 
observes, but few died. " How could ihtfak*" ttelabn* 
Dr. Hahnemann, '* be almost a specific in tin* spas* 
modic asthma, if it were not that musk eait itself Cause 
paroxysms of suffocating iightiiess of the chest ?* 
Agviiu, it is by Its homucopathie virtue that the eow*pfl* 
prevents the occurrence of small-pox, for the symptom** 
of the two diseases are similar; but, from I he mildness' 
•f the cow-pox* it is unablt to remove tlie antagonist 
disease if it already has possession of tlie human frtfm** 
and can therefore act only as a preventive. This 
method of enring beforehand is possible in a few Other 
eases % ibr instance* wearing sulphur in their clothes will 
seetire workers in wind against tlie kind of itch to whieb 
th*y are subject ; ami an iff finitely small dose of bella- 
donna (deadly nightshade) is a preventive of scarlatina 
when it rages epidemically, ami csoites upon the skin ff 
scarlet eruption, somewhat resembling that of the die- 
ease which it scares away. 

k Nor has the true system been utterly unknown in 
domestic practice. Thus it is the custom to rub fro£*ff 
Ihnltfi with snow, and (in Germany) to lay frozen soor- 
eroui upon them. Tlie cook, feAt**wbo has had tile 
misfortune to scald his band with boiling saoee, bonis 
tt near the fire, regardless of fin? temporary increase of 
intffcrmg* fifr Indwell knows that* in a short time, per* 
haps in a few minutes, tlie burnt place will be sound 
and free from pain. Dr. Kentish, who practised flmtong 
aantrjr and had numerous opportunities of treating 
barns, fotual that they did best when stimulated with 
turpentine ami spuits-of-wine, John Bell gives a case 
ef a lady whom he attended, who had scalded both her 
atifts; one was moistened with spirits of turpentine 
laid f he othet pnt bite cold water. The tbrmef was 
cured in half au hour, out the other oue contiuued in 



pain fer six fiours ; for as soon as it was taken out ol 
the water the pain was renewed. 

Ffcrf besides these enses* hi wmebfhe practice wae 
figl&, some ph y sici ans had a slight conception of the 
trite theory. Thus the anther of one of the books 
asertbetf K> Hippocrates remarks, that, by vomhhig, 
tonwtkfg Is mwle U* cease* DethaRfing made out that 
senfflf-tetf cttres cofie by H% power of exciting colic iu 
the healthy j afid Atmhfuff saw thai rhubarb cured 
diafrhdra by me«f» of its pffrgattve ^tfality. Stoerck 
ask« whether, since Rtratnoninm (thnrn-apple) pro- 
(bttee delirium iu the leahby, H wonld not Is? wonh 
trying tf i( #ill resume tlnr senses of the delirious ? But 
Stem* a Danish regbnental plustcuro, ^)eaks out his 
semififefits on this subject In tlie clearest manner, and 
Observes, that the eonimort rule of curhig diseases by 
remedies of aH op pt)sfte kind is totally erroneous; and 
that he k cOlnincetl that diseases yield to remedies 
Whieb trrotbtee a similar malady ; thus burns are to 1* 
enred by approacliiug the fins— frozen limbs to be 
treated With the application of snow ami the coldest 
water, ^Inflammation ami etmtusioiis with spirits; and 
he hail enred aekltfy of the stomach with a very small 
dose iff sutphuiiC aciei, in eases wheic a multiiude of 
atworbent powders had been used in vain, 

Dr. ritthtiemann olfserves-that others had been near 
the great trttth. To us it appears that Stahl had 
altogether discovered the great truth, if it is one; but 
that to Hahnemann we must gh^ praise for the un- 
wearied seal With which he has disseminated his prin- 
ciple* Alf more than thirty years, 

lit these, ami a thousand other instances of the same 
shirl, Or. Hahnemann proves the truth of the first 
prbkdple of lamtceopathy ; ami as it is an established law 
of nattlre, he thinks It unnecessary hi waste time by 
hypothetical explanations of it : vet he stmposes it pos- 
sible that the artificial disease^ whieli e\|>els the migiual 
oite* fhay be imm easily driven out by (lie vital powers 
thai! its predecessor. All that is required, therefore, to 
eure a disease is to find a similar remedy, and to 
administer It ht suelt a dose as shall canse an extremely 
slight and tem|Kirary aggravation of the symptoms; the 
slighter the better^ and hence, the smaller the dose of 
tbti remedy* the better, provided this slight aggravation 
ttfkc* place, Hence, hi homojopathie practice, it is not 
iiiieominoii to hear of such a <lose as the millionth, tne 
triffrdnth, or even the decillionth of a grain *. J f we 
WeTfe arsfcetf cittr oplhftm as to the truth af thi* clfricftt* 
afid htgehloite theory, we shoitld say, that *e have U6 
Aifibt thai people get well after these infinitely small 
doses, though tVe (hJubt very moth if they get well 9t 
nteans af themj aud we think the great value^tff 
homd»(ip^iihy to consist Ui hs detffonst rating that dls« 
bases' iiikV d« tfffreu by tegimen and re]>ose y <vh?ch hot 
mertff tm ophiicm dt the vubrar, bnt the cbmtnisH rni 
(if titv&tii kmers, Wolild eoutteinn to long purses ( 
ffrcaichie. . 

Slrtcfc (he above was wrftieri, it has beett stated ftt 
thi* ' L6tidt)d Medical aurf Surgical Ua/ett«/ fhaf tm* 
Nofmt5opathfc system has received a severe blow tit 
Vienna. The physicians practising aedfrdhtg hi fhl.4 
doetrthe liave been visiter! by the pcifite, the ffteYRc^ea 
have been Seized, ttud the whole of the hoiitattJpailii$ 
pharhflicy ha*s beefi suppressed. IWany of the idmtW* 
tarns', favourable tdtl.re niode of practice, have, Fmvv*v*f, 
det^fmined ti|)On petitioning the emperor, that ffte/ 
niray Wf permitted to live 4na tYtt NmtceopatHlcahy 

* Th« following explanation inay be tia^ful to some pewm»f — 
a mttlioti thu a {ti>iu-d by a nii.IitMi is called a billion, ami in nrifien 
t^w^t^o.Oce.Oet),^, or, mure shrfrrry, tttiw,— (i.tWftew/j 
fMi frafhrt. jj^aiii ftfUHIprieil by a millstrt ia called a fMlHoM, AifA 
writttfa thtm.---(f,(We.eoe) i r aiW m AhUvm r#H*«t I* tke traVa 
power k eaued a iWciihon, and written tUii*,— IKOOO^UU) % a 

tiSRhkh *?OH IWleiS^ t» WrWW ««i^f^5 ^)^ 

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
80MB ACCOUNT OP THE CACAO TRKB AND US PRODUCTS 



[Mabcb II, 



Cacao-Beans, from which chocolate is made, and 
which, prepared in lumps or cakes, or in powder, is 
sold in the shops under the name of cocoa, are the 
seeds of the Thcobronia cacao of botanists. This tree 
grows to the height of fifteen or sixteen feet. The 
fruit (see the wood-cut) resembles a cucumber, and 
is commonly about three inches in diameter. It is 
smooth on the outside, and has a yellowish red colour. 
The seeds are known to be ripe by their rattling when 
the capsule is shaken. The cacao-tree bears leaves, 
flowers, and fruit all the year through. It is a native 
of the tropical regions of America, where it is largely 
cultivated; and it is also cultivated in many of the 
West India Islands. "^ 

Cacao-beans are frequently misnamed cocoa-nuts, 
by which means they are confounded with coco-nuts 
(cocos nucifera), a fruit which is often mis-spelled 
cocoa-nuts. On account of these mistakes in the 
spelling of the fruits of the two trees, many persons 
suppose that the manufactured seeds of the cacao-tree, 
or chocolate, is the produce of cocoa-nuts. 

The cacao-tree was cultivated by the aboriginal 
inhabitants of America long before it was discovered 
by Columbus. They made a beverage of the seeds, 
but authorities are divided in regard to how it was 
prepared. From time immemorial the seeds have been 
employed as money in some parts of America. Choco- 



late seems to have been first manufactured in Mexico, 
and the Creole ladies were for a long time so fond of 
the beverage that it was habitually served to them even 
in church by their slaves. 

Chocolate is manufactured in the following manner: 
— the cacao-beans are carefully examined, and the 
sound and good only selected. Thqy are then dried, 
and the shells removed. The kernels are then sub- 
mitted to the fire for the purpose of being roasted. 
This operation being finished, the seeds are braised 
upon a hot stone until they form an oily paste. TV 
requisite quantities of sugar and spices, — generally 
finely-powdered cinnamon and vanilla, — are then added. 
When the mixture is formed into a homogeneous com- 
pound, it is put into polished iron moulds, of different 
sizes. In the manufacture of chocolate, various nutri- 
tive substances are sometimes used, such as Salop, 
arrow-root, tapioca, &c., and some manufacturers have 
the art of giving it the odour of coffee. It is said that 
imported chocolate is sometimes adulterated with flour 
and Castile soap. Cacao-paste, the produce of, and 
imported from, a British possession, pays a duty^pf 4d. 
per lb. upon importation : in 1830 it was l#.9rf. per lb. 

Cacao-beans, after being dried, or partially rotated, 
shelled, and ground in a mill, are beginning to be 
much used in this country. Two table spoonsful of the 
powder may be added to a pint and a half of milk-and- 



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water; after boiling, let the pot simmer over the fire 
lor about ten minutes, when the beverage will be fit 
for use. Sugar and milk are to be added as required. 
Cacao-beans, imported from a British possession, pay a 
custom duty of 2d. per lb., formerly it was 6d. per lb. 



[Fruit of the CaoaoTree.J 

The thin pellicle or shell that covers the beans, and 
which is separated before they are ground or powdered, 
contains a considerable quantity of mucilage, and the 
bitter principle of the cacao. Some persons prefer a 
beverage made from the shells to a preparation made 
from the beans. The shells are said to be greatly 
employed as a substitute for the beans in Switzerland, 
Belgium, and Ireland. They are charged an import 
duty of lr/. per lb. 




{a, Caca**b«M ; 6, Traiwrem Section of the Prniu] 



POETS IN PERSIA. 

"Who now 

Kilters the chamber, flourishing a scroll 
In his right hand, his left, at every step, 
Brushing the floor with what was once a hat 
Of ceremony * * * 

At length arrived, ami with a shrug that pleads 
4 Tis my necessity !' he stops and speaks, 
Screwing a smile into his dmnerless face : 
1 I am a poet, Signor :— give me leave 
To bid you welcome. Though you shrink from notice, 
The sptendonr of your name has gone before you ; 
And Italy, from sea to sea, rejoices, 
4s well, indeed, she may ! But I transgress. 
X too, have known the weight of praise, and ought 
To spare another.' 

Saying so, he laid 
His sonnet, an impromptu, on my table, 
And bowed and left me ; in his hollow hand 
Receiving a small tribute." Rooans. 



In thua graphically describing a scene in Italy*— the 
most poetical nation of Europe, — the poet has, un- 
consciously, described with equal truth a scene of fre- 
quent occurrence in Persia, — the most poetical of the 
East. The whole kingdom is inundated with such 
poetical mendicants, who lie in wait, not only for the 
public functionaries and wealthy men of their own 
country, but for all strangers whose rank and appearance 
afford them ground to hope the least recompense for 
their tays. The latter are their especial prey ; and the 
stranger, who may be at first amused, is soon annoyed 
and irritated at the frequency of such attacks on his 
purse, and the amazing perseverance of the assailants, 
whom no professed ignorance of the language, and no 
expression of dislike for such productions, can discourage, 
and whom one success only stimulates to further at- 
tempts. In his * History of Persia,' (a work of which 
we make considerable use in preparing this article,) 
Sir John Malcolm states, that a poet of this class came 
fifty miles from Shiraz to welcome him with $ compli- 
mentary ode, beautifully written upon ornamented paper. 

The existence of such a number of poetasters has been 
generally preceded by the creation of good poetry, and 
by a general diffusion of poetical taste. Of few nations is 
this more true than the Persian. Almost the only poets 
of high name in the East were Persians, and their verses 
are as household words from the palace of the king tojth'e 
cabin of the peasant. Indeed, common conversation is 
so profusely interlarded with poetical quotations, that 
the effect would be nauseous were it not for the un- 
affected felicity with which they are usually introduced ; 
and were it not that the usual style of conversation is 
so florid among the Persians as to weaken, if not 
destroy, the line of demarcation between conversational 
and poetical expression, which most other languages 
exhibit. 

A certain measure of education is obtained with much 
facility in the principal cities of Persia ; and if a young 
man prefers a life of indolence to one of active industry, 
the respect in which the character of a poet is held 
strongly tempts him to assume the name. 

44 A few fortunate votaries of the muses enjoy the 
smiles of fortune, but the great majority of poets here, 
as in other countries, are poor. While some favoured 
poets are chaunting the wonderful deeds of the king, 
or of the principal chiefs, or composing i dewans,' or 
collections of odes on the mystical subject of divine 
love ; others are contented with panegyrizing the 
virtues, wisdom, bravery, and discernment of all who 
bestow their bounty upon them, or allow them to par- 
take of the good things of their table. They also make 
epigrams to amuse their patrons, and are alike ready to 
recite their own verses or to quote the finest passages 
of the national poetry." — Malcolm. 

The most distinguished Persian poets are Firdousee 
and Nizamee as epic poets ; Sadi in didactic compost 
tion, and Hazif, J ami, Rudiki, Anveri, in lyrical and 
mystical verse. For this last species of poetry the 
Persians have an especial relish, and it is much more 
cultivated at present than any other. There are some 
pointed epigrams, but no such thing as a regular satire 
in the language. The freedom of observation and of 
expression essential to this class of compositions would 
not be tolerated in such a state of society and govern- 
ment as exists in Persia ; and the most, therefore, that 
has been attempted is to convey some satirical allusion 
under the cover of a fable or apologue. The severer 
taste of Europeans is offended by the redundance of 
ornament which the Persian *poetry exhibits. It is 
characterized rather by richness of fancy than by vigour 
or tenderness of feeling, and it is almost completely 
destitute of those forcible or delicate touches by which 
master hands can strike and awaken untouched chords in 
the human heart. 



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From tbie excess of ornament ami inflation of style, 
which may be regarded not only at the besetting sin 
bat es the characteristic of Persian poetry, there is no 
Eastern poet more exempt than Firckiusee, in whose 
great work* the * Shah*Nameh,' the most fastidious 
European reader meets with passages of exquisite 
beauty and tenderness* which even the depraved taste 
of the Persians can relish, ah hough they consider his 
peculiar excellence to He in the description of battles. 

As the author of this celebrated work occupies the 
first place among Persian poets, and may, in many 
respects, be compared to our own Spender* we imagine 
that a short account of him may not be uninteresting 
to the general reader. For the means of supplying 
this we are indebted chiefly to the introduction prefixed 
to Mr. Atkinson's translation of the ' Soohrab,' an 
episode in Firdousee's great work the ' Shah-Nameh,' 
or Book of Kings. * 

Mahmood, Suit an of Ghizni, the famous conqueror 
of India, began to reign about the year 977. This 
prince to his other glories added that of being a very 
munificeut patron of literature, and his court was, con- 
sequently, the resort of distinguished men from various 
parts of his widely extended empire. The idea once 
occurred to him of having a history of the kings of 
Persia, from the earliest times to his own, prepared in 
verse. In order to ascertain the respective merits of 
the various competitors tor this employment, the king 
selected seven romantic episodes from an old chronicle, 
a copy of which had lately been discovered, aud de- 
livered them to seven of the principal poets at his court 
to be composed in verse* Unsuree, to whom the 
beautiful story of Roostem and Soohrab was allotted, 
performed his part so mucn to the satisfaction of Mah- 
mood that he was engaged to arrange the whole in 
verse. 

Firdodsee was at that time at Musheed, his native 
city, employing himself with equal diligence and success 
in the cultivation of his poetical talents. Having heard 
of the determination of the king, he succeeded in ob- 
taining a copy of the chronicle, and, applying himself 
with great ceal to the task, he soon produced a splendid 
description of a battle, which still forms a much admired 
passage of the * Shah-Nameh.' This performance was 
so generally read, and so much talked of, that it was 
not long before the sultan heard of his merits, and 
immediately sent him an earnest invitation to his court. 
The poet went ; and soon after his arrival executed 
another battle-story, which Mahmood read with admi- 
ration and deHght, and, without hesitating a moment, 
assigned to him the projected undertaking. He also 
ordered his chief minister to pay him a thousand 
miskals for every thousand distichs, and, at the same 
time, bestowed upon him the name of Firdousee*, 
" bec-iiise he had diffused over his court the delights of 
Paradise." It is pleasing to add, that Unsuree liberally 
acknowledged the superiority of his great rival's genius, 
and resigned the undertaking to him without a murmur. 

The vizier, in compliance with the injunctions of the 
sultan, offered to pay the sums as the work proceeded ; 
but the poet preferred waiting until the completion of 
his engagement, in the hope that the large amount 
which would then be due to him, would afford him the 
means of gratifying a wish he had long indulged, of 
doing something of importance for the benefit of his 
native city. But it appears that Firdousee wanted that 
pliancy of disposition and dependency of spirit which the 
atmosphere of an Eastern court requires. With a mail 
of this character, the proud and narrow-minded, though 
able, Vi/ier, soon became offended, and exerted himself 
to destroy his credit. Several passages in hi« ry>ems 
were extracted and invidiously commented upon as con- 

• /' Firdotieee » ngmfes Peradisa. We are avf twan tae* Kt 
jwwioiM uAUMi U known. 



taining sentiments adverse to the true faith ; and werj 
alleged to convict him of being an impious philosopher! 
a schismatic, and a follower of Ali. The petty malice 
of the minister was probably not without effect with/a 
the limits of the court ; but beyond, it was powetless. 
The poet rose in the public esteem. The progress of 
the splendid national monument he was erecting wis 
watched with admiration ; and presents poured in upon 
him from every quarter. The composition of 60,000 
couplets appears to have occupied Firdousee tor Unity 
years. On its completion, the sultan, who was fully 
sensible of the importance and value of the perfor- 
mance, and proud of the renown which his own con- 
nexion with it promised, ordered, as it is said, in 
elephant-load of gold to be sent to the author. But 
this munificent recompense, which only the spoiler of 
India could have afforded, was intercepted by the ma- 
lignant minister, who sent to the poet instead 60,ouO 
silver dirhems *. Firdousee was in the public bath when 
the money was brought to him ; and, on opening the 
bags, and finding that they contained only silver, he 
was so greatly enraged at the insult that, to testify hit 
scorn, he divided the whole sum, on the spot, between 
the keeper of the bath, the vender of refreshments, and 
the slave who had brought it. " The sultan shall 
know," he exclaimed, " that I have not bestowed the 
labour of thirty years on a work to be rewarded with 
dirhems." 

When the king became acquainted with this circum- 
stance, he was much exasperated at the conduct of the 
vixier ; but that ingenious person had so much adroit- 
ness, and so much influence with Mahmood, that he 
succeeded not only in exculpating himself, but in trans- 
ferring all the blame to the poet, who was also charged 
with insulting and disrespectful behaviour towatds his 
sovereign and benefactor. Mahmood, thus stimulated 
to personal resentment, and not questioning the veracity 
of the minister, issued an order that Firdousee should, 
on the following morning, be trampled to death under 
the feet of an elephant. The unhappy poet, when be 
heard of this order, hurried, in the utmost consternation, 
to the royal presence, and, falling at the feet of the 
sultan, begged for mercy, at the same time pronouncing 
an elegant eulogium on the glories of Mahinoods 
reign And the generosity of his heart. That heart was 
touched by the poet's agitation and softened by his 
praise, and the order for his execution was recalled. 

But the wound thus inflicted was too deep to be 
borne without a murmur. Firdousee went home, and, 
under the existing impulse of his feelings, penned a 
satire oh the saltan, which is still extant, and is only 
remarkable as showing the bitterness of his resentment, 
and the keenness with which he felt the injustice and 
neglect with which he had been treated. He instantly 
fled from the city and hastened to Bagdad, where he 
received the most honourable reception and entertain- 
ment from the Caliph Ul Kadur Billah, in whose 
palace he added 1000 couplets to tke * Shah-Nameh,' 
for which he was rewarded with a robe of honour and 
60,000 deenars. 

Meanwhile, the Sultan of Ghizni had discovered that 
his reputation as a patron of literature had been com- 
promised by the conduct of his minister, whom he, 
therefore, dismissed from his office and banished frcm 
the court. Being then anxious to make all the repa- 
ration in his power for the injustice of which he had 
been guilty, he forwarded to Bagdad a present of 
60,000 deenarst* and a robe of state, accompanied by 
apologies for his former conduct. But this fitowemeot 
came too late to benefit its object. Firdousee had re- 
moved to his native city, and had recently died there 
when the money and the robe arrived. 



• Eijual to J 375/. The i 
couplet*, wu 30,937/, 



due, af 1000 n»UMs for 1000 
f Koutl to 27,400/ 



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THB P5KNY M AGAZINE. 



VP 



This U the amount *f *J| thai if bow known of the 
#i£bor of tit* * Shab-Nameh ;' and H b*» an interest 
fceyoud thai which it possasase as the memoir of en 
Individual, from the accurate view it affords of the 
position which * man of genjus, from the earliest times 
until now, has been found to occupy under the despots 
of the East, and the influence of which on Oriental 
literature it would be interesting to trace. The history 
of Firdousee is in its outlines, the general history of 
. men of letters in Asia ; and, viewing it thus, we have 
been led so to extend the notice as to preclude ourselves 
from the present mention of several particulars on the 
general subject which we had intended to state. 

Local Attachment— In the remote village of Petit Bor- 
tianri. in a wild valley above Bonneville, is a very valuable 
painting by Guide, of our Saviour's removal fmtn the cross. 
A native of this place lived many yean at R-jme in the 
• mice of a cardinal ; at last, becoming old, he wished to 
return and end his days in the land of hi* fathers. The 
cardinal gave him hi* leave ; adding, that, in reward for his 

Stpg and faithful services, he wished him to choose out of 
is palace auy one article he might wish to take away with 
lum. The domestic said he should chojee the painting of 
the " Removal from the Cross," which he had often looked 
at in the cardinal's gallery, as be wished to give it to the 
ebitrch of his native village. The cardinal was unprepared 
for this request ; however, as he had promised, he allowed 
Jus sen-ant to take the painting away. This circumstance 
W*s honourable to both. 

The Grnt Parrot.— The grey parrot, like many others of 
its tribe, often lives to a great age, and we are told of indi- 
viduals attaining to 50, 60, or even loo years. According 
to Le Vaillant, one which lived in the family of Mr. Meuinck 
Huyser, at Amsterdam, for 32 years, had previously passed 
41 with that gentleman's uncle, who bequeathed it to his 
nephew ; and there can be little doubt that it must have 
been at least 2 or 3 years old at the time of its arrival in* 
Europe. When Le Vaillant saw it, the bird was in a state 
of complete decrepitude; and, having lost its sight and 
memory, had lapsed into a sort of lethargic condition, and 
was fed at intervals with biscuit dipped in Madeira. In the 
days of its vigour it used to speak with great distinctness, 
repeat many sentences, fetch its master's slippers, call the 
servants, &c. At the age of 60, its memory began to fail, 
and instead of acquiring any new phrases, it began very 
perceptibly to lose those which it liad learned, and to 
intermix, in a discordant manner, the words of its former 
lan'juage. It moulted regularly once a year, till the age 
of 65 when the red feathers of* the tail were supplied by 
yellow ones, after which no other change of plumage took 
place. 

♦ THE ARGAND LAMP. 

Excepting the essential articles of food and shelter, 
theirs perhaps scarcely anything more necessary to 
our Comfort than artificial light. Without its aid, a 
considerable portion of time in the climates inhabited 
by civilized men must be wasted in idleness; and 
although the privation might not be felt by the listless 
dwellers in the torrid zone, to us who live in the 
region of unequal days and nights, the want of it 
would operate as a check upon improvement, and a 
great bar to the provision of the necessaries of life. 

In the earliest ages of the world, and in *he beautiful 
climate of " the cradle of mankind," a «iicial Might 
would only occasionally be useful ; but as the human 
race spread itself into ruder climes, its necessity 
became apparent. At first, the tires which were 
kindled for warmth would supply sufficient light for 
such occupations as were then Allowed : the more 
inflammable matters, such as resinous woods and 
bituminous earths, were sopn found to give more light 
and to be more portable than the masses of fuel used in 
heating dwellings. The resinous wood gradually be- 
came a torch, or cauale, and was wrapped in rags 
dipped in oil or raj, «r twapgd with pitch or other 
e&utlation from piuv-tree*. Such ieechat were m use 



] among the Romans, as appears from the expressions 
" piaea fceda " and " piceum lumen/' so familiar to 
readers of ancient authors. 

As soon as vessels were constructed capable of con- 
taining oil, the rags or strings of cotton, flax or tow, 
which had helped to make the torch, would now be 
more conveniently burned on the surface of the oil; the 
necessity of some contrivance to fix this wick to some 
one part of the vessel would soon be apparent* and thus 
the lamp was formed, such as we see it in Egyptian, 
Etruscan, Greek and Roman sculptures and paintings, 
and as it remained almost without improvement to our 
own times. The most exquisite taste was developed in 
the construction of these lamps, and, as far as beauty is 
concerned, nothing could possibly be desited. 

We give at the end of this article a representation 
of two of these lamps, which were found iu the ruins of 
Pompeii, and of which the following description is 
takeu from the volumes upon that long buried city in 
the * Library of Entertaining Knowledge.' " Of the 
two candelabra here given oue is of the simplest form : 
the other deserves notice on account of the ingenious 
construction by which it can be taken to pieces for the 
convenience of transport. The base is formed of three 
goats' legs, each having a ring at the end, and a ring 
on each side. The centre piece is attached to the side 
pieces by rivets, 3, 4, round which these rings are 
allowed to turn, so that the three either lie parallel 
when the candelabrum is taken to pieces, or may be 
made to stand at equal distances in the circumference 
of a circle, in which case the two exterior rings lap over 
each other, and are uuited by a moveable pin. The 
end rings, 5, 5, 5, which are placed at diffeient heights, 
as shown at h y will then be brought into the same 
vertical line ; and the round pin, C, which terminates 
the stem, passes through them, and is secured by a pin, 
7, passing through the hole, fc, which keeps the whole 
tight. The shaft is square and hollow, terminated by 
two busts, placed back to back, and surmounted wi.h a 
kind of capital. Within this a smaller shaft, #*, plays 
up and down, and is adjusted at the desired height by 
a pin,/. The busts represent Mercury and Perseus." 

But in all these lamps the principle of the burner was 
the same : and although many ingenious contrivances 
were adapted to this part, they all had in view the equable 
flow of oil to the wick, or the maintenance of the oil at the 
same height, with scarcely an attempt to remedy the most 
important defects, — the want of a full supply of air to 
the flame. This alteration was proposed and perfected 
by M. Argand, a citizen of Geneva, about fifty years 
ago. In order to understand fully the nature of the 
improvement effected by him, it must be remembered 
that a plentiful supply of air is necessary to the exist- 
ence of flame. A small wick produces of course a small 
flame ; but, in consequence of that smallness, almost 
every particle of the flame is in contact with the air, 
and the light is very brilliant. By increasing the size 
of the wick, the flame is enlarged; but then the interior 
portion* which is deprived of air, is but imperfectly in- 
flamed; the light is in consequence brown and dull, 
and much of the oil burned passes off in smoke without 
being inflamed at all. The only mode found of increas- 
ing the body of flame, without destroying its brilliancy, 
was by increasing the number of little wicks, which 
were placed wfte by side in a line. This produced a 
good light, but it was unsightly and troublesome to 
arrange, and by no means so brilliant as might be 
expected from the same quantity of light in a compact 
form. It occurred to Argand that if this line of wicks 
could be placed in a circle, and a current of air admitted 
| through the interior of the circle, while the outside air 
! was applied to the external surtax, the power of a lurge 
1 wick would be obtained will: aU *hr brilliancy ef a small 
lone. This was effected iu the following uuuiuer; A 



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l*> THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [March 20 Mi 



[Caudelabra (band al FompriL] 



of U>« SocUtr for die Difokm of UnM KmitMc* bKN, Uaetfrtln Mfe 
LONDON i-CHARLES KNI0H1; SI LUDOATK 8XRKBT. ^^ 

Printed by Wim.iam Olowm, lftfc« Stmt, Igabetk * 

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J28J February 28, to March # 31, 1834. 



T" 



HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS. 



[Portrait of Hogarth, painted by hiui»«ii', iu th« National Gallery .j 



Who has- n^tfeard of Hogarth? Whw has not pored 
orer tome' one\>f his estraordinary prints begrimed 
perhaps with the dust and smoke of a century, in the 



parlour of some country ifln, or *• hung upon the walls 
of a great hall in an old-fashioned house ? " Some of 
the original paintings of Hojmrth — for he was a painter 



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[If ARC II 31, 



1« *%H •• Vi tngrnver— 4kre famliar to rtsidtnts in 
London, as forming part of tht public collection at the 
National Gallery. But still Hogarth is not universally 
known and appreciated — his works have not yet fairly 
got into the hands of the people. The original prints 
are now aearte and expensive ; the various repablica* ' 



* It is the fn*ia>n wftkfhnse whn ctjr 19 tin; g**t 
historical school in (his const ry v at tht head of wl«jdi 
Sir Joshua Reynolds is placed, to exclude MogarHi 
from that school, as an artist of an inferior and \ ulgar 
class. Those persons seem to me to confound the 
painting U aubjctfti in comnpn #r vnkmr life, with the 



w | nuna(^ ti w* -were «* Ullttttipi iO glVC US 

merely * 5— 



Ieuaoie mm *o*io moie umwj put 41* jn J^ntay 
lor myaelf. Au I hni wtwUy a iflB 1 
* AM*»4»* Ifa, Jieaania 



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TITE TBWfT HAGAZf NC 



fondness for drawta*, afcowt of all sorts gat* me 
uncommon pleasure when an infant; and mimicry, 
common to all children, was remarkable in me. An 
fcorly access to a neighbouring painter drew my atten- 
tion from play ; and I was* at every possible oppor- 
tunity, employed in making drawings. I picked up 
an acquaintance of the same turn, and soon learnt to 
"draw ihe alphabet with great correctness. My exercises 
when at school were more remarkable for the ornaments 
which adorned them, than for the exercise itself. In 
the former I soon found that blockheads with better 
memories could much surpass me ; but for the latter I 
was particularly distinguished.' 

To this account of Hogarth's childhood we have 
only to add, that his father, an enthusiastic and 
laborious scholar, who, like many of his craft, owed 
little to the favour of fortune, consulted these indica- 
tions of talent as well as his means would allow, and 
bound his son apprentice to a silver-plate engraver. 
But Hogarth aspired after something higher than 
drawing ciphers and coats-of-arms ; and be lore the 
expiration of his indentures he had made himself a 
good draughtsman, and obtained considerable know- 
ledge of colouring. It was his ambition to become 
distinguished as an artist ; and not content with being 
the mere copier of other men's productions, he sought 
tp combine the functions of the painter with those of 
the engraver, and to gain the power of delineating his 
own id^as, and the fruits of his acute observation. He 
has himself explained the nature of his views in a 
passage which is worth attention :— 

' Many reasons led me to wish that I could find the 
shorter path, — fix forms and characters in my mind, — 
and instead of copying the lines, try to read the lan- 
guage, ami, if possible, find the grammar of the art 
by bringing into one focus the various observations I 
had made, and then trying by my power on the canvass 
how far my plan enabled me to combine and apply 
them to practice. For this purpose I considered what 
variotts ways, and to what different purposes, the 
memory might be applied; and fell upon one most 
suitable to my situation and idle disposition ; laying it 
down first as an axiom, that he who could by any 
means acquire and retain in his memory perfect ideas 
of the subjects he meant to draw, would have as clear 
a knowledge of the figure as a man who can write freely 
hath of the twenty-five letters of the alphabet and their 
infinite combinations.' Acting on these principles, he 
improved by constant exercise his natural powers of 
observation and recollection. In his rambles among 
the motley scenes 0/ London he was ever on the watch 
for striding features or incidents; and not trusting en- 
tirely to memory, he was accustomed, when any face 
struck him as peculiarly grotesque or expressive, to 
sketch it on his thumb-nail, to be treasured up on paper 
at his return home. 

For some time after the expiration of his apprentice- 
ship, Hogarth continued to practise the trade to which 
he was bred, — engraving shop-bills, coats-of-arms, 
figures upon tankards, &c. Soon he procured employ- 
ment in furnishing frontispieces and designs for the 
booksellers. The most remarkable of these are the 

Slates to an edition of Hudibras, published in 1720. 
ibout 1728 he began to seek employment as a portrait 
painter. Most of his performances were small family 
pictures, containing several figures, which he calls 
• Conversation Pieces,' from twelve to fifteen inches 
Ugh. These for a time were very popular, and his 
practice was considerable, as his price was iow. His 
life-size portraits are few. 

In 17£!J, Hogarth contracted a stolen marriage with 
iht ontydaughter of the once fashionable painter, Sir 
^fames ThornhilL The father, for some time impla- 
cable, relented at last ; and the reconciliation, H is said, 



I was much forwanlcil by hk a d m i r at io n of tho * Htrljfl j 
Progress,' a series of six prints, commented in l?^ 
and published in 1734. The novelty as weU as went 
of this aeries of print* won for them extraordinary 
popularity ; and their success encouraged. Hogarth tp 
undertake a similar history of the * Rake's Progress* 
in eight prints, which appeared in 1735. The third* 
and perhaps the most popular of these pictorial noveje* 
* Marriage-a-la-Mode,' was not engraved till 1745. 

The merits of these prints were sufficiently inteJHgiM* 
to the public : their originality and boldness of design^ 
and the force and freedom of their execution, won for 
them an extensive popularity and a rapid and continued 
sale. The Harlot's Progress was the most eminently 
successful, from its novelty rather than from its superior 
excellence. Twelve hundred subscribers' names were 
entered for it ; it was dramatized in several forms; and 
we may note, in illustration of the difference of past aad 
present manners, that fan-mounts were engraved, ©on- 
taining miniature copies of the six plates. The merits 
of the pictures were less obvious to the few who eouid 
afford to spend large sums on works of art ; and Ho- 
garth, too proud to let them go for prices much below 
the value which he put upon them, waited for a long 
time, and waited in vain, for a purchaser. At lost he 
determined to commit them to public sale ; but instead 
of the common method of auction, he devised a aew 
and complex plan, with the intention of excluding p*»» 
ture-dealers, and obliging men oi' rank and wealth, who 
wished to purchase, to judge and bid for themselves. 
The scheme failed, as might have been expected. Nine- 
teen of Hogarth's principal pictures produced eajy 
417 L 7#., not averaging 221. I Of. each. The Harlots 
Progress was purchased by Mr. Beckford, at the rate of 
fourteen guineas a picture; five of the series perished 
in the fire at Fonthill. The Rakes Progress averaged 
twenty-two guineas a picture ; it has passed into the 
possession of Sir John Soane, at the advanced price 
of five hundred and seventy guineas. The same emi- 
nent architect became the proprietor of the four pictures 
of an Election, for the sum of 1732/. Marriage a-la- 
Mode was disposed of in a similar way in 175Q ; and en 
the day of sale one bidder appeared, who became master 
of the six pictures, together with their frames, for 
115/. 10*. Mr. Angerstein purchased them, in 1797, 
for 1391/., and they now form a striking feature in our 
National Gallery. 

The satire of Hogarth was not often of a personal 
nature ; but he knew his own power, and he sometimes 
exercised it. Two of his prints, 4 The Times,' pro- 
duced a memorable quarrel between himself 011 one side, 
and Wilkes and Churchill on the other. The satire of 
the prints of The Times, which were published in 1762, 
was directed, not against Wilkes himself, but his poli- 
tical friends, Pitt and Temple ; nor is it so biting as to 
have required Wilkes, in defence of his party, to reta- 
liate upon one with whom he had lived in familiar and 
friendly intercourse. He did so, however, in a number 
of the North Briton, containing not only abuse of the 
artist, but unjust and injurious mention of his wHe. 
Hogarth was deeply wounded by this attack : he re- 
torted by the well-known portrait of Wilkes with the 
cap of liberty, and he afterwards represented Churchill 
as a bear. The quarrel was unworthy the talents either 
of the painter or poet. It is the more to be regretted, 
because its effects, as he himself intimates, were inju- 
rious to Hogarth's declining health. The summer of 
1764 he spent at Chiswkk, and the free air and exercise 
worked a partial renovation of his strength. The 
amendment, however, was but temporary ; and be died 
suddenly, October *«i, the day after his return" to #is 
London residence in Leicester-square. 

Hogarth has left a memoir of his own life, from which 
we have quoted, wuioh contains aoase curieua end in* 



R 2 



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[Mams 31, 



teresting and instructive matter concernii 
modes and motives of thought and action, 
verses occasionally in a rough and familia 
not without some sparkles of his humorous 
his most remarkable performance is the * 
Beauty,' composed with the view of fixing 
pies of taste, and laying down unerring di 
the student of art. Its leading principle 
serpentine line is the foundation of all that 
whether in nature or art. The work unc 
contains much that is original and valuable. 

From the time when the young Hogarl 
jot down imaginary faces and other rude 
the margins of his school exercises, — to the f 
in the progress of his imitative talent whei 
to scratch upon silver tankards and copper p 
onward to the still further stage, when, a 
correspondence with the satirical images he 
in his mind by patient thought, he sketch* 
upon his thumb-nail ; — in all these several 
his education as an artist, through what 
flection, not only upon human nature and hui 
but upon the possibility of making the dec 
intelligible to the eye of the casual observe 
groat moral painter have passed, before he 
duce such a picture as the one we now cop] 
rough as we give it. It is printed from a 
of a wooden block, copied from his own eng 
copper. It is probable that his own print f 
of his conceptions ; and that their transla 
translation into the language in which w 
them before a million of readers, may abate 
of their force and fervency, as expounded 
But no defect in the mechanical process by 
ceptions like Hogarth's are made apparen 
world, can much detract from their orig 
truth. The rudest copy must partake in a { 
of the nature of the original model. The A 
an Apollo, though he is hawked about th 
plaster for a shilling. Look at the woe 
best we are able to give, — or consult the ori§ 
in the National Gallery, there is still, in t 
ments of which that scene is composed, an intensity or 
truth which " lectures on the vanity of pleasure as 
audibly as anything in Ecclesiastes." 

The series called * The Marriage-a-la-Mode ' consists 
of six pictures. The personages of this tragical drama 
are taken from the upper walks of society. The son 
of a nobleman seeks an alliance with the daughter of a 
wealthy London citizen. On the one side there is a 
pedigree from William the Conqueror, but an estate 
embarrassed by improvident expenditure : on the other 
there is humble birth, but great riches. The parents 
settle this ill-assorted marriage ; — those who are to be 
made happy or wretched, virtuous or vicious, for the 
rest of their lives, care little about t.he matter. The 
preliminaries are arranged; — the marriage has taken 
place ; — the first solemn farce is over ; — the tragedy 
begins in the scene before us. 

There is no after misery arising out of domestic un- 
happiness, which is perhaps comparable to the habitual 
wretchedness and degradation which ensue when a man 
and his wife, in whatever station they may be placed, 
have no pleasures in common. That purest of friend- 
ship — that almost only real friendship — which results 
from a correspondence of tastes and inclinations in two 
persons of different sexes allied * for better or worse,' 
requires no excitements from without. From the moment 
when they cease to sympathize as to the sources of hap- 
piness, come weariness, and disgust, and hatred, and 
all the horrid train of ills that belong to domestic discord. 
The scene before us requires no development of the 
catastrophe to make us understand its present wretch- 



iiunniiiaiivco i/« 



iii^; ism OKnmut 




with a bundle of unpaid bills in his hand, and 
only one receipt upon it. The uplifted hand 
worn face of the faithful servant distinctly painV 
which he sees approaching in debt ar A ^°k.»«UJ 
catastrophe, indeed, is more sudden tl 
the four following pictures, we see ti 

" The Gods are just, and of our pl< 
Make instruments to scourge uf 

The tragedy ends with adultery, anc 

cide. Hogarth put forth his strengtn m meac 

to exhibit the short cut to ruin which too often 

itself to the desperately vicious. In the * Hi 

gress,' and the ' Rake's Progress/ he exhibits 1 

but not less certain road upon which crime 

are destined to travel in company. Whether \ 

painter laid his scenes in high or in low life, 

was equally to show, as Walpole has well ex 

(hat " the different vices of the great and 

lead by various paths to the same unhappin 

was too keen an observer of human nature nc 

that station only decides the form and colour of our evil 

doings. Crime is a leveller of all distinctions. 

This truth was never more forcibly exemplified than 
in the print which we have chosen to present as a 
contrast to that which we have just described. ' The 
Cockpit ' is a scene in which men of all ranks are repre- 
sented as engaged in one brutalizing species of vice- 
amusement we will not call it. Here are a peer and a 
pickpocket, a French marquis and a chimney-sweep* 
a doctor and a horse-jockey, all busily engaged in t|U 




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crncl excitement of a cock-match. They arc one and 
all equally ignorant, thoughtless, and depraved, whether 
the? wear bag-wigs or smock-Crocks, or exhibit their 
cupidity in s.ealing a bank-note, or offering a bet. It 
is possible that the progress of education may have 
driven those who call themselves gentlemen from such 
open tthibltfort* ot j iff fh§ Spirit that for- 

merly carried them to k^plt stilt allure* them 

to the gorgeods salooi chre is only whitened. 

But at the time whg painted, men of rank 

were to be constantly feeii in inch disgraceful society. 
The figure i:i the centre of the piee* is a portrait of a 
nobleman of tiogarih'* day, who, although he had the 
misfortune to be totally blind, had the greater misfortune 
to have his moral sense so dint as to place his chief 
gratification in excitements of this groveling nature. 
On the It'll c f the picture is an old mait, a cripple with 
his crutch, deaf almost beyond the power of compre- 
hension, tbr his features appear to give no signal of 
understanding the words of the Ittan who is bawling to 
him through his *ur-truiiip*t. Nothing cart lie finer 
or truer than the satire conveyed in the exhibition of 
these examples of human iiiflrtrittf. Knowledge in shut 
out in these men froin two of her chief inlets,— and ytt 
tbev cultivate not that calm reflection which to pecu- 
liaily belongs to their condition, but cling to Use excite- 
meni*, in the spirit of which they areeveu precluded from 
tompletelv participating. The group around the blind 
peer is arranged very skilfttlly ; and the facea of the seve- 
ral characters all exhibit that deep meaning tbr which 
Hogarth is so remarkable. Five of the men about the 
unfortunate dupe are clamorous for him to bet with 
them. The \aeant expression of his countenance, and 
the hclptessno<rs of his whole attitude, bewildered as he 
ia bv so many assailants, are expressed with surprising 
truth. At the Moment of his embarrassment the 
fellow next the pit, on bis loft hand, is purloining a 
not*. The cautious villainy expressed in this man's 
lace is unrivalled. l*he post-boy, just above the thief, 
appear* calling the blind man's attention to the pilfer* 
ing that is {going forward,— but he is utterly insensible 
to every thing but the rage tor betting which has taken 
possession of him. 

The group on the right of the picture is as well 
defiucd in its principal action as that of the centre. In 
his eagerness to sec the match, a matt has fallen forward 
against the edge of the pit. With the exception of the 
round-faced person, Whom he has crushed, nobody is 
mowd by the uproar. The peer in his star and spec- 
tacle* is as much absorbed by the battle as if he had 
not n particle of dignity to be ruined by all this shoul- 
dering and elliowiug ; — the despair of the man in the 
right corner, anil the deep abstraction of the other 
gamester, next the gentleman who has lost his periwig, 
are finely marked. In the third group on the left, 
nothing can he more characteristic of such scenes than 
the eagerness of the conn try man who stakes bis crown, 
— the business-like gravity of the o\\\ fellow with a cock 
in a bag, — ami the sedattness of his neighbour who n 
registering the wagers. The people in the kiwer tier 
are all actively engaged in ntakiug bets or quarrelling. 
T.e two men reaching to join the butt ends of their 
whips indicate, by this act, that they haw dosed a bet. 
The other jwrts of the picture will be understood 
without any particular description. We cannot, how- 
ever, omit to point out the extraordinary skill with 
which Hogarth in this, as in other of his performances, 
contrived to indicate some accessary of the scene by 
one of the minute touches which genius only can con- 
ceive. Tht shadow on the pit is that of a man. These 
sceues luke place by lamp- light ; and reflected from 
the lamp is the shadow of a gambler, it ho has lice n 
suspended from the ceiling in a basket, for the crime 
of not making good his stakes. Degraded as lit is, the 



passion clings to him even in his punishment : he is of- 
ten ng his watch as another stake. 

The 'Cock-pit' is one of those pictures in which 
Hogarth exhibits vice in its more ludicrous attitudes — 
a thing to be despised as well as abhorred. As we ad- 
vance in our plan, we shall have to point out his won- 
derful now*r of painting the more terrible features cf 
Htne-^the deep .tragedy of guilt, unrelieved by the 
lighter touclies of the satirist. Yet even in these ter- 
rible displays of a fallen "end degraded nature, there is 
always something which carries us back to the gentler 
feelings of humanity, and makes us still cling with pity 
to our species. Mr. Lamb has beautifully described 
this merit of the p 1 inter — which is indeed common to 
all great artists, whether they employ lines or words as 
the vehicles of their thoughts. Perpetual instances of 
this power occur in Shakspeare; and in Crabbe, who 
may be considered a painter of crime and suffering in 
the same walk and in the best spirit of Hogarth, there 
are count ant examples of tenderness and natural affec- 
tion coming to relieve the sense of disgust and loathing. 
Mr. Lamb says: — 

"If an image of maternal love be required, where 
shall we And a sub timer view of it than in that aged 
dustry and Idleness* (Plate 1.), who is 
he fondness of hope not quite ex tin- 
brutal, vice-hardened child, whom she is 
to the ship which is to bear him away 
soil, of which he has been judged un- 
worthy : in whose shocking face every trace of the 
human countenance seems obliterated, and a brute 
beast 's to be left instead,- shocking and repuhme to 
all but her who watched over it in its cradle before it 
was so sadly altered, and feels it must belong to her 
while a pulse by the vindictive laws of his country shill 
he suffered to continue to beat in it? • * • " With 
the exception of some of the plates of the * Harlot s 
Progress,' which are harder in their character than any 
of the rest of his productions, (the * Stages of Cruelty ' 
I omit as mere worthless caricatures, foreign to hit 
general habits — the offspring of his fancy in some way- 
ward humour,) there is scarce one of his pieces where 
vice is most strongly satirized, in which some figure is 
not introduced upon which the moral eye may rest 
satisfied ; a face that indicates goodness, or, perhaps, 
i tiredness and carelessness of mind 

( only, yet enough to give a relaxation 

to me growing imin of satire, and keep the general air 
from tainting." 

It has been urged, however, that many of Hogarth's 
works were of a nature tnereh to entertain, "to shake 
the sides," and not to " attempt the heart,'' as was ob- 
jected to him by Barry, the celebrated painter. This 
lum been met so admirably by Mr. C. Lamb, that we 
cannot refrain from giving his triumphant refutation :— 
** There remains a very numerous class of his per- 
formances, the object of which must he confessed to be 
But in all of them will be found 
guish them from tlie droll produc- 
and others. They have this differ- 
ence, met are do not laugh al, but are led into long 
trains of reflection by them. In this r spect they 
resemble the characters of Chancers 'Pilgrims/ which 
Have strokes of humour in them enough to designate 
them for the most part as comic, but our strongest 
feeling still is wonder at the comprehensiveness of 
genius which could crowd, as poet and painter have 
done, into one small canvass so many diverse yet co- 
operating materials. 

M The faces of Hogarth have not a mere momentary 
interest, as in caricatures, or those grotesque phy- 
siognomies which we sometimes catch a glance of in 
the streets, and, struck with their whimsicality, wish for 
a pencil and the power to sketch them down, and for- 



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get them ag^ln as rapidly, but &ey mtt p a manaa t 
•biding ideas ; not the sports of Nature, but bar 
necessary elernal classes. We feel that wt cannot part 
with any of them, lest u link should be broken. 

* It is worthy of ol>servatiott, thai he has seldom drawn 
a mean or insignificant eountenatioe. Hogarth's mind 
was eminently reflective ; and, as it has teen well ob- 
served off Shakspeare, that he has transfused his own 
poetical eharyier into the persons of his drama (they 
are all more or less po >t*) t Hogarth has impressed a 
thinking character upon the persons of his canvass. 
This remark must not betaken universally. The exqui- 
site idiotism of the little gentleman in the bag and 
•word, beating his drum, in the print of the * Enraged 
Musician,* would, of itself, rise up against so sweeping 
an assertion. But I think it will be found to be true 
of the generality of his countenances. The knife- 
grinder and Jew fiut£rp|*yer ia the plate just men? 
tioned, may serve as instances instead of a thousand. 
They have intense thinking faces, though the puiposj 
to which they are subservient by no means required it j 
but, indeed, it seem* as if H was painful to Hȣ*rtfe fe 
contemplate mere vacancy or imgnift(t*m$ • 

"This reflection of the artist's own intellect frarn the 
faces of his characters, & one reason why the works of 
Hogarth, so much more than those of any other artist, 
are objects #f meditation* Our intellectual natures lov§ 
the mirror which gives them back their own likenesses. 
The menlaj $ye will not be#4 1pȣ with delight on va- 
cancy. 

" Another tint of eternal separation between Hogarth 
and the common painters of d'oil #r buiiwsjue subjects, 
with whom he is often contounrjed, is the sense of beauty 
which, in the must unpromising subjects, seems never 
wholly to hay* deserted him. * ** 'fo this may be added 
the frequent introduction of children (which Hogarth 
seems to haw taken a particular delight in) into his 
pieces. They have a singular etfeci iu giving tranquil- 
lity and a portion of their own inuoc? uce to the subject. 
The baby riding in its mother's lap iu the 'March to 
f inchJey,' fits careless !unoce*|t (ace placed directly 
behind the intriguing time -furrowed countenance oJ the 
treason-plotting French priest,) perfectly sobers the 
whole of that tumultuous scene. The boy, moreover, 
winding- up his top with such unpretending jn>*HJsibi- j 
lity in the plate of the 4 Harlot's Funeral (die only | 
thing in that assembly that js not a hyjiocrite) quiets 
and soothes the mind that has l>eeu ilisturlied at 'the 
sight of so much depraved man and wouiau kind. * * * 

44 In the * Election Entertainment ' (which perhaps as 
far exceeds the more known and celebrated 4 March to 
Finchley ' as the best comedy exceeds the best farce 
that ever was written) let a |Jcrson iook till ike be satur 
rated, ami when he ha-s done wondering at the inventive- 
ness of genius which could bring sojuany characters — 
more than thirty distinct classes &f face — into a roc mi, 
and set then* down at table together, or otherwise 
dispose them about in so natural a manner, engage 
them iu so many easy sets and occupations, yet all par- 
taking of the spirit at the occasion whicli brought them 
together, so that we (eel that nothing but an elect km 
time coojd have assembled them ; having no central 
figure or principal groups— lor the hero *>f the ruece, 
the candidate, is properly set aside in the levelliug in- 
distinction of the day,-^one must look tor bun W Ri\A 
him,— nothing ^o detain the eye from pasting 4J*>tn 
part to )Hirt, where every \ml is alike imaM^t wrtii tife, 
— for he pe ace no furnu#*e-laces^ wo .figunes bw^igbt in 
to 611 up the .sceue like si age-choruses, but all drtm&ti* 
pt-nohr- : when ,he shall have done wondering at all 
these faces so strongly charactered, yet finished with 
the accuracy of the <rme*i WHiiatuce; wiuHi he -abaU 
have done admiring the numberless appendages of the 
*wnc, those gratuitous doles which rich genwa 



into the ftaap whan it has already dot* enough, the 
aver measure which jt delights in giving, as if jt felt 
its stores were exhaust less; the dumb rhetoric of the 
scenery, — for tables and phmrs, and joint stools iu 
Hogarth are living and significant things ; the witti- 
cisms that are expressed by words, (all artists but 
Hogarth have failed when they have endeavoured to 
combine two mediums of expression, and have introduced 
words into their pictures,) and the unwritten, number- 
leas little allusive pleasantries that are scattered about ; 
the work that is goaig on in the scene aud beyond it, 
as is made visible to the 4 eye of mind ' by the mob 
which chokes up the door-way, aud the sword that has 
forced an entrance before its master: when he shall 
have sufficiently admired this wealth of genius, let him 
fairly say what is the rt*ull left on his mind. Is it an 
impression of the vileness and worthlessness of his 
spec}*?? Of IS not the general feeling which remains, 
after the individual faces have ceased to act sensibly on 
the mind? « kindly one in J a von r of his xjjecies? Was 
fu*t the general air of the scene wholesome ? did it do 
the heart hurt to be among it? Something of a riotous 
spirit to be sure is there, some woridly-miudt'dness in 
sjnne of the laces, a Doddiiigtouiau smoothness which 
doas nof. promise any supeirluous degree of sincerity in 
the fine ^euijeinau who has been tin* occasion of calling 
so much gopfj company together; but is uot the general 
east of e*prjt*siou in the faces of the good sort ? do they 
not seem cut put of the good nid rwk — substantial 
English honesty? would one fear treachery among 
characters of their expression? or shall we call their 
honest mirth aud seldom- returning relaxation by tht 
bard names &f vice and prnfiigucy ? That poor country 
fellow that is grasping his stall', (which, from the diffi- 
culty of feeljug themselves at home which poor men 
experience at a least, lie has never parted with since he 
came into the room,) and is eujo>iug, with a relish that 
Seems to fit all the capacities of his soul, the slender 
joke which that facetious wag ln# neighbour is prac- 
tising upon the gouty gentleman, whose eyes ihe effort 
to suppress paiu has made as round as rings, — floes it 
shock the 4 dignity of Inunan nature' to look at that 
mat), aud to sympathize with him iu (he seldom-heaid 
joke which has unbent his care-worn, haid- working 
visage, and drawn iron smiles from it? or that full- 
hearted cobbler, who is honouring with the grasp of 
an honest fist the umu$ed palm of that annoyed pa- 
trician whom I he licence of the time has seated next him ? 
"Icuu^ee nothing 4 dangerous' in the contempla- 
tion of such scene* as this, or tine 4 Enraged Mnsiciau,' 
or the 4 South work Fair,' or twenty other pleasant 
prints which come crowding in upon my recollection, 
in which the restUsss aclisiiies, the disersified beuLs aud 
biunours, tji^ blameless |u.*culiariiies of men, as they 
deserve to la? called, rather thau their 4 \ ices aud toll iea,' 
are held up ju a laughable point of view.- All luughter 
is n*rt pf a dangero: s or soul-haixicui ug tender. cy. There 
is tlie pet rily mg snoer of a drnion, winch excludes and 
kills io\e, aud there is the cordial laughter of a man 
which implies aud cherishes it. What heart was ever 
mute the worse by joining iu a hearty laugh at t-he sim- 
plicities of Sir Hugh E\ans or Parson Adams, wheie a 
seuse»of 4iie ridiculous mutually kindles and is kindled 
by a i«er<jep4iuu of the amiable? That tumultuous 
h^naony^'siugers who are roaring out the woids *The 
world sliail bow to tin* Assyrian throne,' from tin? o| era 
<of 4 jMditii,' in 4he tiiiul plate «>f the series, called 
4 Four 4jl*oups ,of WcarLs ;' which the tpiick eye of Jlo- 
^arth 4#H*st bave struck olT in the very intancy A>f the 
rage for sacred oratorios iu this country, while 4 Music 
yet was young;' when we have done smiling at the 
idenfening distortions which these t carers of devotion t»i 
rags and tatters, tln»se takers of heaven by storm, iu 
thair boisterous mimicry of ths occupation of angel*, 



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[March 31, 13W 



are making* — what unkindly impression is left behind 
or what more of harsh or contemptuous feeling, than 
when we quietly leave Uncle Toby and Mr. Shandy 
riding 1 their hobby-horses about the room ? The con- 
ceited long-backed sign-painter, that with all the self- 
applause of a Raphael or Corregio (the twist of body 
which his conceit has thrown him into has something of 
the Corregiesque in it) is contemplating the picture of 
a bottle which he is drawing from an actual bottle that 
hangs beside him, in the print of * Beer Street,' while 
we smile at the enormity of the self-delusion, can we 
help loving the good-humour and self-complacency of 
the fellow? would we willingly wake him from his 
dream ? 

" I say not that all the ridiculous subjects of Ho- 



like them: some are indifferent to us; some in then 
natures repulsive, and only made interesting by the 
wonderful skill and truth to nature in the painter ; but 
I contend that there is, in most of them, that sprinkling 
of the better nature which, like holy water, chases 
away and disperses the contagion of the bad. They 
have this in them besides, that they bring us ac- 
quainted with the every-day human race ; — they give us 
skill to detect those gradations of sense and virtue 
which escape the careless or fastidious observer in the 
countenances of the world about us, and prevent that 
disgust at common life, that tedium quotidiananm 
formarum which an unrestricted passion for ideal forms 
and beauties is in dajtger of producing. In this, as in 
many other things, they are analogous to the best 



V TlMOflM 



•i *• tori*? for tto DiftoiM •* 0*M Km»wi»i§» fa mi M. U»mV* ha 
LONDON i-CHARLFS KNIGHT, St. LVDQAVE 8TRKJTT. 

Priutcii bjr Wir.uAM Clowh DutoStrwt, Luritik 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE ^ 

OF THE 

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 

129.] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [April &, I8M. 

ST. PATRICKS CATHEDRAL, DUBLIN, 



[Choir of St. Patrick's Cathedral.] 

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The metropolis of Ireland is celebrated for the beauty 
of its public buildings ; and the Bank, the College, the 
Four Courts, the Cut- torn- House, the Stamp-Office, the 
Post-Office, the Royal Exchange, the new Catholic 
church of St. Mary's, a id other edifices, well sustain its 
claim to be accounted one of the finest cities in the 
United Kingdom. The architectural ornaments, how- 
ever, of which it has most reason to be proud are almost 
all modern. Of ancient Gothic magnificence, of which 
England has so much to show, there are few remains 
either here or anywhere else in Ireland. St. Patrick's 
Cathedral is, we believe, the most remarkable structure 
in the Gothic style now to be found in the country. 

Dublin possesses two cathedrals, of which that dedi- 
cated to the Holy Trinity, and commonly called Christ's 
Church, enjoys the priority in point of dignity, It Is 
a very old building, and is now in a state of Extreme 
decay. Both the Cathedral of Christ's Church and 
that of St. Patrick stand on the south side of the 
river Liffey, in the south-west quarter of the city, which 
is the most ancient part of it. Christ's Church is 
nearest the rivev, and St. Patrick's stands directly south 
from it. The situation of the latter is very low, and it 
is not a great many years since not only the floor of 
the cathedral, which is sunk six or sewn feet below the 
surrounding streets, used occasionally to be inundated, 
but even outside the walls the water sometimes stood 
rfO high that boats actually plied on it. Draining and 
other improvements have now, however, put an end to 
these inconvenient visitations. 

The site appears to have owed its first reputation for 
sanctity to a well, long known by the name of the patron 
saint of Ireland. A church dedicated to St. Patrick is 
4*jd to have been built on the site which the cathedral 
now occupies, so early as the middle of the fifth century ; 
—but there probably was little church building in 
Ireland till some centuries after this date* There is no 
reason to doubt, however, that there was a church here 
when Archbishop John Corny n conceived the plan of 
erecting the present more extensive building about the 
close of the twelfth century. The new church of St 
Patrick was at first only a collegiate church; it was 
not till the episcopacy of Henry de Loundres (that is, 
of London), who was consecrated archbishop in 1213, 
that it was made a cathedral, and u united," says John 
Alan, who was archbishop in the time of Henry VIII., 
M with the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, saving to the 
other church the prerogative of honour *." 

This, however, was, properly speaking, only the pre- 
decessor of the present building. On the fith of April, 
1362, the church which had been erected by Archbishop 
Comyn was burned to the ground, the blame of which 
is thrown upon the negligence of John the sexton. In 
1364 the restoration of the edifice was begun by 
Thomas Mi not, the then archbishop ; and the work 
was probably completed before the end of the fourteenth 
century. Mi not is known to have laid, in the year 
1370, the foundation of the present tower, which rises 
over the intersection of the nave and transept, and to 
have lived to finish it according to the original design. 
The spire by which it is ornamented was only added 
about the middle of the last century. Archbishop 
Mi not commemorated his pious work by assuming on 
his seal the somewhat strange device of a bishop holding 
in his hand a church steeple. 

Both time and the hand of man had grievously de- 
faced the original features of St. Patrick's Cathedral, 
and the building appeared to be hastening to ruin, when, 
fourteen or fifteen years ago, principally through the 
exertions of the late Dr. Keating, the dean, the funds 
were obtained for a thorough reparation of it, which has 
since b*en executed. It has now been put into such a 

«».*■ .*** ' History of Dublin,* by Waiburtoa, YVliitelaw, and 
WaUh. 2 v>U., 4to., 1SJ3. 



state that it may last for some ages. Not only the 
cathedral itself has been renovated externally and in 
the interior, and the parts of it which were partially or 
wholly in ruins restored, but many surrounding old 
buildings, by which it used to be incumbered and dis- 
figured, have been cleared away. 

According to the measurements given in Wafburton 
and Walsh's * History of Dublin/ this cathedral is 300 
feet long and 80 feet in breadth. The transept is 157 
feet from north to south ; but neither of the two por- 
tions which extend beyond the nave forms a part of the 
cathedral, that to the south being the Chapter House, 
and that to the north the parish church of £t. Nicholas. 
The latter was in ruins before the recent reparation. 
Pot the purpose of enlarging the choir, also, which 
appears to have been originally only tiO feet long, the 
central portion of the transept has been taken in frou 
the nave, making the length of the choir now 90 feet. 
To the east of the choir is the Chapel of the Virgin* the 
length of which is 55 feet. The nave is stated, by the 
authority referred to above, to be 130 feet in length ; 
but these numbers leave part of the SOU feet given as 
the entire length of the church unaccounted for. The 
account, also, of the width of the several divisions 
of the nave does not seem to correspond with the 
statement of its entire width already quoted. The 
central portion is said to be 30 feet, and each of the 
two side aisles 14 feet wide. The aisles are separated 
from the centre by rows of octagonal pillars, each of 
which is 5 feet in diameter, and 10 feet high. The 
height of the tower and spire together is 223 feet; of 
which 120 feet is the height from the ground to the 
base of the spire. 

The interior of the cathedral has not much architec- 
tural beauty to boast of; but the wooden roof of the 
nave, which is lofty, presents a somewhat fanciful de- 
sign, and the arch, spanning the original entrance to 
the choir, has been much admired. The roof of the 
choir, also, is handsome. It was originally of stone, but 
an imitation in stucco has b?en substituted, the weight 
of the stone having been thought too great for the 
strength of the walls. With these exceptions, the chief 
ornaments of the church consist of monuments and other 
accessories. The choir presents a striking appearance, 
ornamented as it is with the banners of the Knights of 
St. Patrick, which are suspended over the stalls appro- 
priated to the several members of the order. The in- 
stallation of the knights takes place in this cathedral ; 
and the banners, helmets, and swords of the deceased 
knights are preserved in the Chapter House. In the 
Chapter House is also to be seen the skull of the great 
Duke of Schomberg, who was killed at the battle of 
the Boyne, by a shot, as is generally supposed, acci- 
dentally fired from his own side. In many of the 
accounts of the battle it is stated that the ball passed 
through his neck ; but it appears to have entered the 
head above the right eye. Among the monuments in 
the choir, by far the mo3t conspicuous is that erected 
in 1631 in honour of Richard, the first Earl of Cork, 
and his countess, upon which are sculptured these noble 
persons, and no less than fourteen other individuals 
of their family.. The display is a very gaudy one, 
decorations in wood, painted and gilt, being intermixed 
with the stone. This singular testimonial, erected while 
the earl was yet alive, is said to have been placed origi- 
nally behind the communion-table, from which situation 
it was removed to the south side of the choir, where it 
now stands, by order of the Earl of Stratford, an exertion 
of authority which the Earl of Cork avenged by a 
course of determined hostility to the government of 
Strafford, and finally by presenting himself as one of 
the witnesses against that unfortunate nobleman on the 
trial which ended in his destruction. But the most 
mterestiag monumental record in St. Patricks Cathe- 



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throl It a marble rfah affixed to one of the pNlan in the 
nave of the church over the remains of Swift, its illus- 
trious dean. He held this dignity from 1713 till his 
.death, ou the 19th of October, J74a. The short Latin 
inscription, written by himself, contains a Heeu eipre&r 
«ion of what he probably intended to be taken for a lofty 
sou rn of human folly and vice, but which was really in 
great part merely a misanthropic impatience generated 
by disappointed ambition : Here, it is said, rests his body, 
• 4 ubi saeva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare pequjt,"— r 
where bjtter indignation can tear his heart no more. His 
bust, which is said to be a good likeness, is placed over 
the tablet. On the next pillar hangs a similar plain 
memorial of the unfortunate Mrs. Hester Johnson, better 
known as Stella. She is described as having been ( * a 
person of extraordinary endowments and accomplish- 
ments of body, mind, and behaviour, justly admired 
and respected by all who knew Jier, on account of h«r 
many eminent virtues, as well as tor her gre^t na^uraj 
and acquired perfections." ]|rs. Jphijson died in, her 
forty-sixth year, on the 27th of January, 172S$ but 
this inscription was not placed over her grave till 
some time after the death of Swift. Another (.ablet, in 
one of the corners of the nave, is also interesting from 
its connexion, iyith this celebrated writer. Jt is pne 
placed by him over the remains of a favourite servant— r 
Alexander Af'Gee, who is stated tp have died op the 
24th of JVfarch, 172^, in the twentyrnjjuh year pf his 
age 

As m several other of the Publin chprphes, — the 
College Chapel, the Castle Chapel, and the jCflthedraJ 
of Chrjst's Church,— the musical part of the church 
service is performed in this cathedral if} a style of ex r 
traprc|inary magnificence. The organ is one pf f))e 
finest in this, country, and was the gift of the second 
Duke of Ormond, the ship which was conveying jt frpm 
Rotterdam, where it had been built by the elder Smith, j 
having fallen into the hands pf hisQracc,in 1702, after 
an attack on Vi^o in Spain, fqr one of the churches, jn 
which city it was intended. 



SPIDERS. 

The uparoiaWe character pf this insect, jt? unsightly 
appearance, and the zeal with which good housewives 
wage war against it, concur in preventing that general 
acquaintance with its habits, which its. frequent occur- 
rence and domestic and sedentary mode of life render 
of such easy attainment. The following account, 
though it adds nothing to the stock of existing infor- 
mation on the subject, affords details which to some pf 
our readers will be new and interesting. 

The characteristics of the whole class (Aranep), 
of which the species are many, may be thus gtated. 
All spiders differ essentially iu their internal structure 
from insects proper, and their external form is very 
peculiar. The feet are always eight in number, instead 
of six, as in insects, terminated by a moveable hupk; 
the eyes are eight, or, though very rarely, six. The 
eight eyes of spiders are immovable, and of a structure 
different from tlipse "i» msects. j£ each consists of only 
one lens, it jg deprived of the po\yer of multiplying 
objects, and, from, its immobility, it can only perceive 
those which' are placed immediately f>efore it. The 
distribution of the eyes differs, greatly in different 
species ; but tj*ey are alvyays disposed in such a manner 
as, with their number, to meet the deficiencies indicated, 
affording a beautiful instance pf those. u compensations" 
to which the attention pf the student of nature is con- 
tinually drawn. Spi<W§ *ta not undergo metamor- 
phoses ; and all envelope their eggs in cocoons of silk, 
varying in form and texture in the different species. 

The^process by which the web of the spider is woven 
m always open tp observation. There are five fpin- 



nerets qr teats near the extremity of the abdomen, the 
apertures of which the insect can contract or enlarge at 
Will. These apertures communicate by a tube with four 
reservoirs containing the gluey substance of which the 
thread i« ipun, 




[Garden Spider (jfyiira Sifi^^a), m*\* mini by » thread prflpgeding from its 
vpinuertt.] m 

When the common house-spider purposes to form a 
web, she generally chooses a place where there is a 
cavity, such as the corner of a room, as well to faci- 
litate her escape in tirpe of danger as for the advantage 
afforded pf piore complete inclosure. Having chosen 
a situation, she. fixes ope end of her thread to the wall, 
by applying her spinperct, and then passes tp the other 
side, the tfjread following her as she recede*. After 
fixing the pther end of the thread to the opposite wall, 
she returns, and thus passes tp and fro until as many 
parallel threads have been made as she considers neces- 
sary, when she begins to cross them by other parallel 
thread*. Thus are formed the oils or snares designed 
to entangle flies and other smah insects. But, besides 
this large web, she generally weaves a small cell for 
herself, where she lies quiet and concealed waiting for 
her prey. This cell is sometimes in the centre of the 
webi but when not so, a connexion is established by 
means of threads, which not only inform her, by the 
agitation communicated to the cell, when anything 
touches the web, but enables her to pass quickly in order 
to secure the captive struggling in her toils. 

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There are other methods of weaving peculiar to 
different species of spiders, but which our limits will 
not allow us to enumerate. The second cut in p. 131, 
exhibits the geometric net of the garden-spider. 

Several species of spiders construct a cylindrical web 
under the ground, with a lid connected by a sort of 
hinge, which the inhabitant of the cell can open and 
shut at pleasure. In the volume of c Insect Architec- 
ture ' will be found some very curious details of these 
contrivances of mason- spiders*. The following offers 
an example of these wonderful exertions of instinct : — 

" Another mason-spider {My gale cmmentaria, Latr.), 
found in the south of France, usually selects for her 
nest a place bare of grass, sloping in such a manner as 
to carry off the water, and of a firm soil, without rocks 
or small stones. She digs a gallery a foot or two in 



[Nest of the Mason-Spider.] 
A, The nest that. B. The n M open. C. The ipidcr, mygnh t ___ 
D. The eye* magnified, h., F. Parte of the foot and claw magnified. 

depth, and of a diameter (equal throughout) suffi- 
cient to admit of her easily passing. She lines this 
with a tapestry of silk, glued to the walls. The door, 
which is circular, is constructed of many layers of 
earth kneaded, and bound together with sttk. Ex- 
ternally it is flat and rough, corresponding to the 
earth around the entrance, for the purpose, no doubt, 
of concealment : on the inside it is convex, and tapes^ 
tried thickly with a web of fine silk. The threads 
of this door-tapestry are prolonged, and strongly at- 
tached to the upper side of the entrance, forming an 
excellent hinge, which, when pushed open by the 
spider, shuts again by its own weight, without the aid 
of spring hinges. When the spider is at home, and 
her door forcibly opened by an intruder, she pulls it 
strongly inwards, and even when half-opened often 
snatches it out of the hand ; but when she is foiled in 
this, she retreats to the bottom of her den as her last 
resource." 

Some spiders are aquatic, and spin a cup-like web 
which answers the purpose of a diving-bell, under 
which they disengage the air they bring down from the 
surface, and pass their lives feeding on aquatic insects 
Some spin no web, but take their prey by running • 
others, by approaching quietly till within a certain dw-' 
tance, when they suddenly spring upon their prey 

The means which spiders employ in transporting 
themselves from one place to another are not a little 
curious. When the insect is inclined to chanire its 
situation, it hangs itself perpendicularly by a thread 

SL^^ ^t *?"** the wind > 8h °ots out 
otlicra from behind, which are wafted about by the air, 

♦See page 360, Ac. 



until they fasten on trees, walls, and other bodies 
When the spider finds that the threads have attached 
themselves, which it ascertains by pulling them in with 
its feet, it uses them as a bridge to pass to the place 
where they are fixed. Such threads are frequently sea 
running, parallel to the horizon, from one wall to an- 
other in a house, from one tree to another in a field, 
and even from wall to wall across gardens of consider- 
able extent. That spiders had the means of floating 
through the air appears to have been first ascertained 
by Dr. Lister and Dr. Hulse towards the latter end of 
the seventeenth century. After the insect has, in the 
manner just described, thrown out one or more threads 
to the length of several fathoms, it snaps that from 
which it hung, and then floats away with the wind ; and 
although, of course, it cannot proceed against the wind, 
it seems to have some control over its own course, using 
its feet in the way of oars to steer, and perhaps, in 
some measure, to row. Many theories have been at- 
tempted for the explanation of this phenomenon; 
amongst others that it depends upon the electrical state 
of the atmosphere. 

The height to which they can attain is very sur- 
prising. In a letter to Mr. Ray, Dr. Lister mentions 
that, in October, 1670, he observed the air to be very 
full of these webs, and immediately ascended to the top 
of the highest steeple of York Minster, and could there 
observe them still very high above him. Autumn is 
the principal season for these aerial voyages, though 
they are occasionally undertaken at other times in clear 
and calm weather. As these floating webs art, like 
those in the lower regions, frequently garnished with 
legs, wings, and other marks of slaughter, it is con- 
cluded that the spiders capture gnats and other insects 
in their passage. In all stages of their existence, 
spiders prey with the most savage ferocity on all insects 
they can overcome, and also upon one another. Spiders 
seize and kill their prey with a pair of sharp, crooked 
claws, or forceps, placed in the fore part of the head. 
They can open or extend these pincers as occasions 
require ; and, when undisturbed, they suffer them to lie 
one upon another. It is affirmed that the spider injects 
a poisonous juice into the wound it makes. They cast 
their skins once a-year, and they perform this operation 
by suspending themselves in some corner, and creeping 
out of their case. These skins are found in the webs 
dry and transparent, with the legs attached to them. 

It should be observed that the apertures in the 
spinnerets of the spider, from which the viscid matter 
which forms the web is emitted, are exceedingly nu- 
merous. M. Reaumur often counted 70 or 80 in a 
single teat by means of a microscope, and could per- 
ceive that there were infinitely more than he could 
enumerate. It is computed that there are about 1000 
apertures in each teat, and, as there are five teats, each 
thread of the spider consists of 5000 separate fibres, 
which are united at a very minute distance from the 
teats. 



[Spinnereta of a Spider magnified to show tike SpinntrnJetJ 

To give an idea of the wonderful tenuity of the 



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thread of the Aril-grown insect, it has been computed 
that an ordinary human hair if as large as 10,000. But 
this is not — 

" The spider's most attenuated thread;" 
for the young begin to spin as soon as they leave the 
egg > an ^ how fine must the thread be which is drawn 
from the minute apertures in jjie teats of insects whose 
whole bulk does not equal that of a single teat of the 
mother ! Leeuwenhoek calculates that, when the young 
spiders first begin to spin, 400 of them are not larger 
than one of full growth ; we may therefore presume, on 
the data of the preceding computation, that 4,000,000 of 
such threads do not exceed in bulk a single human 
hair. 

About the beginning of the last century, M. Bon, of 
Languedoc, having observed that a short-legged species 
of garden-spider enclosed its eggs in bags composed of 
threads of much thicker and stronger texture than those 
which form the web, was led to think that they might 
be manufactured into a kind of silk. On making the 
experiment, he found that the threads could not be 
wound off, and he therefore had fhem carded with 
unusually fine cards. A silky substance of an ash 
colour was thus obtained that was easily spun into fine 
and strong threads, which M. Bon caused to be ma- 
nufactured into gloves and hose, and found that three 
ounces of this material would make a pair of stockings 
for a large man whose common silk stockings weighed 
between seven and eight ounces. The result of M. 
Bon's experiment, and the actual production of the 
manufactured articles before the Royal Academy of 
Sciences, led to very sanguine expectations of the 
benefit which might be derived from these insects. But 
M. Reaumur, who was appointed by the Academy to 
investigate the subject, made a report which completely 
discouraged the expectations which had been raised. 
He stated that the natural ferocity of the spiders 
renders it impracticable to breed and keep them to- 
gether. He distributed 4000 or 5000 into different 
cells, in numbers varying in each cell from 50 to 200, 
and fed them with flies and the bloody ends of young 
feathers ; but the smaller insects were soon devoured 
by the larger, so that in a short time there were but 
one or two left in each cell. To this disposition in 
spiders of devouring one another, M. Reaumur at- 
tributes their comparative scarcity, considering the vast 
number of eggs they lay. It is thus impossible to 
establish the insects in a community ; and, if it were 
practicable, more room and attention would be required 
than the produce would recompense. A much greater 
number of spiders than of silkworms would* be ne- 
cessary to produce the same quantity of silk ; and the 
bag of the spider is, after all, much inferior to that of 
the silkworm both in lustre and strength. M. Re'au- 
mur computed that 2304 worms will produce a pound 
of silk ; and, as he considers the work of twelve spiders 
only equal to that of one silkworm, a pound of silk 
would require 27,649 spiders ; and as the females only 
form the bags to deposit their eggs in, he supposes it 
would be necessary to have an equal number of males, 
so that, in order to obtain a quantity of silk equal to 
that furnished by 2304 silkworms, it would be requisite 
to keep 55*,296 spiders. 

THE BEDFORD LEVEL. 
The Bedford Level is a vast tract, containiug about 
400,000 acres of low land, extending into the six 
counties of Northamptonshire, Huntingdonshire, Cam- 
bridgeshire, Lincolnshire, Norfolk, and Suffolk, bounded 
on all sides by high lands, which encompass it almost 
in the form of a horse-shoe. Peterborough Fen*, 

* Ft*, in the eld English or Saxon language, signifiiw dirt or 
pod. ' 



which is that part of the Level running into North* 
amptonshire, and extending between Peterborough 
and Crowland, contains between 6000 and 7000 acres. 
One-seventh part of the Level is situated in Hunting- 
donshire. Nearly the whole of the Isle of Ely, which 
forms the northern division of Cambridgeshire, consists 
of this marshy ground. The south-east part of Lin- 
colnshire, — usually termed Holland, — extending to the 
river Witham on the north, is a fenny district included 
in the Bedford Level : 63,000 acres are situated in 
Norfolk and 30,000 in Suffolk. 

There is abundant evidence to prove that this part of 
the country was formerly dry land, at a much lower 
level than the present surface. From the convulsions 
of nature, and subsequently owing to embankments 
improperly made, which prevented the waters from the 
uplands flowing into channels through which they 
might discharge themselves into the sea, the tract was 
at length reduced to the state of a morass, where the 
waters, stagnating and becoming putrid, produced 
miasma destructive to the health of the inhabitants; 
while this extensive district became impassable even to 
boats, in consequence of the sedge, reed, and slime with 
which it was covered. It is conjectured, with every 
appearance of probability, that this Level was, at the 
time of the invasion of the Romans, one of those great 
forests to which the Britons fled for protection against 
their conquerors, whose policy it was to cut down the 
trees, and to render bare those retreats and strongholds 
of the natives. 

History records the heavy grievances of the Britons, 
who complained that their hands and bodies were worn 
out and consumed by the Romans, in clearing the 
woods and embanking the fens. The Roman emperor, 
Severus, who died in the beginning of the third century 
of the Christian era, was the first who intersected these 
fens with causeways. One of these was twenty-four 
miles long, extending from Denver, in Norfolk, to 
Peterborough. It was sixty feet broad, composed of 
gravel three feet in depth. This causeway is now 
covered with moor, from three to five feet in thickness. 
At that early period this low land, though damp, was 
by no means impassable ; on the contrary, it appears 
that, up to the thirteenth century, the waters here 
usually flowed in natural channels, and had not de- 
vastated the surrounding country. Henry of Hunting- 
don, who wrote in the time of King Stephen, describes 
this fenny country as " very pleasant and agreeable to 
the eye, — watered by many rivers which run through 
it, — diversified with many large and small lakes, — and 
adorned with many woods and islands." William of 
Malmesbury, who lived about the same period, also 
represents it as a perfect paradise, " the very marshes 
abounding in trees whose length, without knots, do 
emulate the stars." There was then no waste land in 
any part. On some spots there were apple-trees ; in 
others, vines, which either spread upon the ground or 
ran along poles. 

Dugdale relates, on the authority of historians writing 
at the time in which the event happened, that in the 
year 1236, on the morrow after Martinmas Day, and 
for the space of eight days more, the winds were so 
boisterous that the sea was raised much higher than its 
usual bounds, and broke in at Wisbeach and other 
places of this district, so that many people and cattle, 
together with numerous small craft, were destroyed ; 
and those of the inhabitants who survived were reduced 
to great distress. About seventeen years after this 
disaster, a similar accident again happened ; and the 
inhabitants were called upon, by command of the king, 
to repair the banks. This compulsory work was per- 
formed but very inefficiently, for, within a few years, 
the sea-banks were again broken by the violence of the 
tides. 



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tm fb* prog mm •* drMmng tha district, •videne* ha? 
Wmy where been found not only of pmious vegetation^ 
but that this spot had formerly bt«n an inhabited 
ttofttry, which must hav# been suddenly overwhelmed 
by iodm violent convulsion at' nature. In digging ft 
little above Boston, in the year 17h4, for the purpose 
of driving piles in the solid bottom, roots of trees were 
fcuod «t the depth of eighteen feet below the then 
pasturage surface, and these roots were so firm in the 
ground that some of them were obliged to be chopped 
to make room for piles. In making several channels 
for draining the isle of Ax hoi in* great numbers of oak, 
fcr, and other trees, were found lying in the moors, the 
fir from four to five ieet deep, the oak about three feet 
below the surface. They were discovered lying near 
their roots, which still stood as they grew in firm earth 
below the moor. The bodies had fallen generally in 
a north-west direction from the roots. Their appear- 
ance indicated that they had not been dissevered by the 
stroke of the axe but had been burnt asunder near the 
ground, the ends still presenting a charred surface. 
The oaks were lying in multitudes, and of an extra- 
ordinary size, some being five yards in circumference 
and sixteen yards long ; others smaller, but of a great 
length, with a large quantity of acorns near them. 
Similar discoveries were made near Thorney, near 
Lynn, and in many other places. 

When Sir R. Cotton was having a pool made at the 
edge of Conington Downs, Huntingdonshire, in the 
course of excavation the skeleton of a large sea fish was 
found considerably beneath the surface of the soil. In 
16*3 a a deeper channel was made to the Wisbeach river, 
and eight feet below the then bottom, another hard 
Stony bottom was found, on which were lying seven 
boats covered with silt. On digging through the 
moor at Whittlesey, in the Isle of Ely, for the pur- 
pose of making a moat, at the depth of eight ieet a 
perfect soil was found, with swaths of grass lying on. 
It as they were first mowed. At Shirbeck sluice near 
Boeton, a smith's forge was discovered buried sixteen 
feet deep ; the remains of several ancient tan-vats were 
likewise found, besides a great quautity of horns, and 
seme shoe soles of a very unusual form, being sharp- 
Minted, in the fashion of those worn iu. the reign of 
Richard II. 

In 1486, the project of draining these fens engaged 
the attention of many persons of wealth and considera- 
tion in the country. Vast funds were expended in 
making ditches and banks impregnable, as it was sup- 
posed, to all assaults from inundations ; but the next 
winter being wet and windy, the river Ouse, with the 
aeoession of its tributary brooks, swelled into a mighty 
torrent, and swept away all the bulwarks opposed to 
its progress. This accident is thus described iu the 
quaint words of the narrator : — " Down comes the 
bailiff of Bedford, attended like a person of quality with 
many servants, and breaks down all their paper banks, 
as not water-proof, reducing all to their former condi- 
tion." The total demolition of works, which were 
thought so excellent in design and execution, induced 
the speculators of that and succeeding ages to discuss 
the feasibility of the project, and many curious argu- 
ments were brought forward for and against the under- 
taking ; an account of some of these may not, perhaps, 
be uninstructive. 

Some narrow-minded persons objected to the attempt 
on the plea of religion, as if it were displeasing in the 
sight of the Creator for his creatures to exercise the 
patienfie and ingenuity with which they have been en- 
dowed by Him. It was said, " Hitherto shall thou come, 
and no farther," and it was therefore mistrusting God's 
providence for man to presume to set any other bounds 

* The Itle of Axholm is on the north-west of Lincolnshire, and 
it included by the rivers Trent, Idle, aud l>uo f 



to the water than these which * €M hnk *ppotat*d. v 
On he other hand it was urged, tfcat this o rejection 
only held good with regard to the ocean, " which ia a 
wild horse, only to be broke, backed, and bridled by 
Him who is the maker thereof. It was a false and lazy 
principle if applied to fresh water, from the attacks of 
which, to defend the soil, human industry might he 
exerted with perfect propriety." 

Another argument of tho non-speculators was, that 
many had attempted, but none succeeded, in arresting 
this mighty assailant. u None even w, resiled with it 
but it gave them a foil (if not a fall) to the bruising 
(if not breaking) of their backs. Many have burnt 
their fingers in these waters, and instead of draining 
the fens have drained their pockets." To this it was 
answered, that the frequent failures in the undertaking 
did not prove its impracticability, but only the want 
of ability in design and execution. 

A worthy alderman of Cambridge likened the fens 
to a crust of bread swimming in a dish of water, as, 
under a depth of eight or ten feet of eaith, the whole 
was nothing, he said, but mere water. The draining 
thereof was therefore impossible. It was affirmed by 
his opponents that interest had betrayed his judgment 
into an evident error, and that his brain, rather fhan 
this floating earth, seemed to swim. The savans of 
Cambridge then urged that the Cam would have its 
stream dried up by the draining of the fens; and as 
Cambridge is concerned in its river, so the well-being 
of the whole country, yea, of the whole kingdom, is 
concerned in Cambridge and its University, and the 
stream of knowledge would be dried up with the stream 
of Cam. It was, therefore, not reasonable that private 
men's particular profit should be preferred before a 
universal good, — or the good of a university. A*su- 
rances were given that no damage should accrue to the 
river Cam ; on the contrary, " to take away the thief is 
not wasting nor weakening the wick of the candle." 

Those who professed to be the poor man's friends 
brought forward other objections. They said, that the 
fens were nurseries and seminaries of fish and fowl 
which would be destroyed by the draining; that the 
sedge, turf, and reed would likewise be destroyed, and 
that many thousand people then gained their livelihood 
by fishing and fowling in the fens, while the turf fur- 
nished fuel for trie poor. The answers to these objec- 
tions were forcibly though quaintly put. It was said, 
that a large first course, at any man's table, compensates 
for his shorter second course ; and who would not prefer 
a tame sheep before a wild duck, and a good fat ox 
before a well-grown eel; while the people employed 
might turn their industry to a more profitable account. 
The sedge, &c, would be replaced by good grass and 
grain. He cannot complain of wrong who hath a suit 
of buckram taken from him and one of velvet given 
instead thereof. 

A parallel to this objection is stated by Sir John 
Herschel to exist at the present day in Holland. The 
great Haarlem Lake, which covers a surface of 40,000 
acres, might easily be drained, and Sir John has made 
a calculation * to show the practicability of the under- 
taking through the employment of pumps worked by 
means of steam-engines. u Eight or nine thousand 
chaldrons of coals," says he, " duly burnt, would 
evacuate the whole contents. But many doubt whether 
it would be profitable, and some, considering that a 
few hundred fishermen, who gain a livelihood on its 
waters, would be dispossessed, deny that it would be 
desirable." 

It was then asserted, that even if these marshes could 
be drained, after vast difficulty and expense, they would 
quickly revert to their old condition, like the Pontine 
marshes in Italy : the speculators, on the other hand, 

• * Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy,' pp. 61, 6 & 



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urged that moderate care would prevent this catastrophe. 
Well, said the objeetors, grant them drained, where 
would be the advantage ? the rich man would jostle out 
the poor from their commons. Wherefore, it was 
answered, was this a necessary result? why should 
oppression be an essential accompaniment to draining 
or enclosing ? an equitable allotment would be made 
which would benefit the poor as well as the rich. 

All these arguments fully impressed the generality 
of people with the opinion that the project was impos- 
sible, and that it was only an idle dream of fanciful 
speculators. Perseverance and experience, joined to 
skill and ingenuity, have, however, brought to a suc- 
cessful issue many schemes which have been deemed 
impossible ; and much rich and productive land, by 
these united powers, have, in this instance, been brought 
into successful cultivation. Where the wild- fowl and the 
fish once held undisputed sway, now gruze in luxuriant 
pasturage the ox and the sheep ; where the reed lifted 
its profitless head, now waves the golden harvest ; the 
industry of man has reclaimed a great part, and is still 
constantly reclaiming more, of this once unhealthy and 
unprofitable morass. It would much exceed our present 
limits to give a detailed account of the various means 
taken to accomplish this arduous work. In the reign of 
Charles I., in the year 1634, William Earl of Bedford* 
undertook to drain these fens, stipulating to receive, as 
a compensation for the expense and trouble incurred, 
95,000 acres of the reclaimed land : 100,000/. were ex- 
pended in the course of three years in this endeavour, 
and the woik was partially accomplished; but the 
embankments proved defective, and the whole was 
again allowed to lay waste until the year 1649, when 
the Earl once more attempted the task for his former 
share of 9 \ 000 acres. Three hundred thousand pounds 
were then laid out in draining, embanking, &c, and 
this time with success, as far as regarded the accom- 
plishment of the work, but to the ruin of those who 
had been admitted sharers, since the sum expended was 
much more than the 95,000 acres were worth. 

A regular system for continuing the draining and 

E reserving the land already reclaimed, was now esta- 
lished; and, in 1664, a company was incorporated 
for its management : this consisted of one governor, 
six bailiffs, and twenty conservators ; and, to the 
present day, the fens are managed and preserved by 
this corporation. Numerous cuts have been made, in- 
tersecting every part ; some of these are so large and 
deep as to serve for navigable canals. In the Isle of 
Ely, the Old and New Bedford rivers are two cuts 
running nearly parallel to each other ; — these are both 
navigable for upwards of twenty miles from Erith to 
Denvers. Various expedients are used for the proper 
draining of the marshes; where the regular and com- 
mon means have failed, windmills have been erected 
which raise the water to the requisite height to admit of 
its being conveyed to receptacles sufficiently elevated, 
by which it may be carried off into its proper channel. 
These numerous windmills give a strange aspect to the 
Isle of Ely, where the towns and villages are built on 
the most elevated spots, which appear like islands 
rising from amidst low and wet inarshe\ Recourse 
has been had to numerous projects to complete and 
secure the drainage of the fens; and a vast expense 
has been incurred, sometimes much greater than the 
value of the land reclaimed. In Huntingdonshire, 
about the latter end of the last century, the tax raised 
on the land by the conservators, for its drainage and 
the preserving of its embankments, was in some in- 
stances so great, that the farmers preferred forfeiting 
their land rather than paying so exorbitantly for its 
preservation. In the present day, the art of drainage 

• Whence it derivts its muds of the * Bedford Level." 



is better understood than when first this stupendous 
work was undertaken ; but even now, in many p 1 *"*^ 
the farmer is still liable to have the produce of hie 
grounds carried away by sudden inunduttons. The 
peculiar situation of the Level renders it the receiver of 
the waters of nine counties, and therefore it is difficult 
to provide a sufficient outlet to the sea by which the 
descending torrent may find a safe egress. The great 
error committed in the commencement of the drainage 
was the making numerous small cuts instead of larger 
and deeper channels, by which, with the same inclina- 
tion of descent, the water would safely pour into the 
sea without any risk of overflowing its banks; since in 
a narrow and shallow channel, owing to the smaller 
force exercised by the lesser body of water, the bottom 
must be made at a much greater inclination to cause 
the free flowing of the stream. Great improvements 
are now, however, constantly being made in the drain- 
age and embankment of this extensive tract of land, 
and the errors of former methods are, as far as possible, 
being remedied 

The late Mr. Nimmo, in an excellent paper on drain- 
ing inserted in ' Brewster's Edinburgh Encyclopedia,' 
gives the following data on the subject of the relative 
inclination of streams necessary to insure the discharge 
of their waters : — 

'• Large and d«*p tirers run sufficiently swift with a 

tall of about one tout jier iui e, or 1 in 5000 

Smaller riveiM and bruuks run sufficiently swift with 

a fall of about two feet per mile, or 1 in 2500 

Small brooks hardly keep an open couise uuder four 

ft«t per mile, or 1 in 1200 

Ditches and covered drains require at least eight f«.<et 

per mde, or , 1 in 600 

Furrows of ridges aud filled drain* require much more.* 9 



SCRATCHELL'S BAY, ISLE OF WIGHT. 
The old topographical poet, Michael Drayton, says 
justly of the Isle of Wight, in his many-footed verses, — 

" Of ad the southern isles she holds the hiithett jJace, 
And evermore hath beeu the gtcut'st iu Briiaiu'H grace.** 

He might, indeed, have made his eulogy more un- 
qualified ; for there is certainly no other of the islets 
that border the British coasts which can pretend to vie 
in any respect with this " gem of the ocean." In 
beautiful and sublime scenery, much of it of a kind 
peculiar to itself, the Isle of Wight is surpassed by few 
spots on the globe. A considerable portion of its coast 
presents an impregnable rampart, composed for the 
most part of cliffs of chalk, intermixed with flint or 
clay, and in many places rising to the height of some 
hundreds of feet above the waves that lash its base, 
Some of the most elevated of these rocks occur in the 
course of the range that extends in both directions from 
the west point of the island, forming Alum Bay to the 
north, and what are called the Freshwater Cliffs to the 
south. An indentation, much smaller than Alum Bay, 
immediately adjacent to this terminating promontory 
on the south side, is known by the name of Scratchells 
Bay. It is represented in our wood-cut to the right, as 
seen, along with the other objects to the west of it, 
from the front of the cave, the magnificent arch of 
which, 1 50 feet in height, forms the foreground of the 
picture. This is one of numerous caves which pierce 
the Freshwater Cliffs, and vary the extraordinary aspect 
of that vast wall of whiteness marked with parallel 
inclined lines of black, " only to be compared," to use 
the language of Sir Henry Englefield, u to a ruled 
sheet of paper." In many parts these cliffs are 400 
feet in height;— at one place, called Main Beach, 
their elevation is not less than 600 feet. Here, how« 
ever, the precipice is not quite perpendicular. The 
singular-looking rocks that are seen rising out of 



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the water beyond the promontory are the celebrated 
Needles, a name, however, which they seem to have 
derived chiefly from one of their number, much taller 
than any of those now remaining, which has long dis- 
appeared. It fell suddenly in the year 17G4. Sir 
Richard Worseley, in his * History of the Isle of 
Wight,' states, that it was about 120 feet in height 
above low water mark, and much more like a needle in 
shape than any of those that now remain. A repre- 
sentation of the Needles, as they formerly appeared, is 
given iu that work. 

Scratchell's Bay, and all the neighbouring cliffs, are 
frequented by vast swarms of sea fowls, which the 
country people are in the habit of catching by the 
hazardous method, practised also in the Shetland and 
the Feroe Islands, of being swung over the brow of the 
rock by a rope made fast in the earth above. Worseley 
enumerates puffins, razorbills, willocks, gulls, cormo- 
rants, Cornish choughs, daws, starlings, and wild 
pigeons, as among the species that frequent the rocks, 
and lodge in the shelving strata. Some remain con- 
stantly here ; others come only to lay their eggs. 
" They sit," says the writer just quoted, " in thick 
rows, and discover themselves by their motions, though 
not individually visible." From these retreats they 
are driven or frightened away by the stick of the ad- 
venturous bird-catcher. When Worseley wrote (1781), 
the soft feathers obtained from a dozen birds were sold 



for eightpenca ; and the carcasses were then disposed 
of, at the rate of a halfpenny each, to fishermen, who 
used them for bait to their crab-pots. 

Scratchell's Bay is often visited by tourists. The 
most magnificent view down into it, Sir Henry Engle- 
field says, is obtained by descending a very steep 
grassy slope, to the edge of one of the cliffs in the 
neighbourhood, and from this point the whole of the 
Needles may be seen ; but he advises strangers not to 
attempt to find their way down without taking a guide 
along with them. In his splendid folio, entitled c A 
Description of the Isle of Wight,' (Loudon, 1616,) Sir 
Henry has given various views of the scenery iu the 
neighbourhood of this spot. " Nothing can be more 
interesting," he remarks, "particularly to those who take 
pleasure in aquatic excursions, than to sail between and 
round the Needles.* The wonderfully coloured cliffs of 
Alum Bay, the lofty and towering chalk precipices of 
Scratchell's Bay, of the most dazzling whiteness and 
the most elegant forms, the magnitude and singularity 
of the spiry, insulated masses, which seem at every 
instant to be shifting their situations, and give a mazy 
perplexity to the place, the screaming noise of the 
aquatic birds, the agitation of the sea, and the rapidity 
of the tide, occasioning not unfrequently a slight degree 
of danger, all these circumstances combine to raise in 
the mind unusual emotions, and to give to the scene a 
character highly singular, and even romantic." 



[Scratchell's Bay and the Needles.] 



The Ofice of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is st M. Lincoln's Ism Field*. 
LONDON :-CHARLE3 KNIOHT, 89, LUDOATB STREET. 



Printed by William Clowxs, Duke Street, Leabeth. 



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[April 18, 1834. 



POMPEYS PILLAR. 



[Fwnpey'B Pillar.] 



Scarcely any one of the monuments of antiquity is 
involved in so much mystery and uncertainty, or has 
afforded so wide a field for conjecture and the specula- 
tions of the scientific, as Tfiat known by the name of 
Pompey's Pillar ; yet it is not one of those relics that 
have only recently been brought to light, but, on the 
contrary, is so intrusively visible as to be descried for 
miles around ; and is one of the first objects discerned 
by ships making this part of the coast of Egypt, which 
is everywhere very low. All travellers agree that its 
present appellation is a misnomer; yet it is known 
that a monument of some kind was erected at Alex- 
andria to the memory of Pompey, which was supposed 
to have been found in this remarkable column. Mr. 
Montague thinks it was erected to the honour of Ves- 
pasian. Savary calls it the Pillar of Severus. Clarke 
supposes it to have been dedicated to Hadrian, according 
to his reading of a half-effaced inscription in Greek on 
Vol III. 



the west side of the base ; while others trace the 
of Diocletian in the same inscription. No mention oc- 
curring of it either in Strabo or Diodorus Siculus, we 
may safely infer that it did not exist at that period ; 
and Denon supposes it to have baen erected about the 
time of the Greek emperors or of the caliphs of Egypt, 
and dates its acquiring its present name in the fifteenth 
century. With regard to the inscription, we may ob- 
serve, that it might have been added after the erection 
of the column. 

Pompey 's Pillar stands on a small eminence about 
midway between the walls of Alexandria and the 
shores of lake Mareotis, about three-quarters of a mile 
from either, and quite detached from any other build- 
ing. It is of red granite ; but the shaft, which is highly 
polished, appears to be of earlier date than the capital 
or pedestal, which have been made to correspond. It 
is of the Corinthian order ; and while some have eu- 



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logixed it as the finest specimen of that order, others 
have pronounced it to be in bad taste. The capital is 
of palm leaves* not indented. The eoluutn consist* 
only of three pieces, — the capital, the shaft, and the 
base, — and is poised on a centre stone of breccia, with 
itigttgtyphics on it, less than a fourth df the dimensions 
of the pedestal of the column, and with the smaller end 
downward ; from which circumstance the Arabs believe it 
to have been placed there by God. The earth about the 
foundation has been examined, probably in the hopes of 
finding treasure* ; and pieces of white marble (which 
is not found in Egypt) have been discovered connected 
to the breccia above mentioned. It is owing, probably, 
to this disturbance that the pillar has an inclination of 
about seven inches to the south-west. This column 
has sustained some trifling injury at the hands of late 
visiters, who have, indulged a puerile pleasure in pos- 
sessing and giving to their friends small fragments of 
the stone, and is defaced by being daubed with names 
of persons, which would otherwise have slumbered un- 
known to all save in their own narrow sphere of action ; 
practices which cannot be too highly censured, and 
which an enlightened mind would scorn to be guilty of. 
1 1 is remarkable, that while the polish on the shaft is 
still perfect to the northward, corrosion has begun to 
affect the southern face, owing probably to the winds 
passing over the vast tracts of sand in that direction. 
The centre part of the cap-stone has been hollowed out, 
forming a basin on the top; and pieces of iron still 
remaining in four holes prove that this pillar was once 
ornamented with a figure, or some other trophy. 

The operation of forming a rope-ladder to ascend the 
column has been performed several times of late years, 
and is very simple : a kiie wis flown, with a string to 
the tail, and, lvhen directly o\e«* the pillar, it was 
dragged down, leaving the line by which it was flown 
across the capital. With this a rope, and afterwards a 
stout hawser, was drawn over ; a mau then ascended 
and placed two more parts of the hawser, all of which 
were pulled tight down to a twent) -four-pounder gun 
lying near the base (which it was said Sir Sidney 
Smith attempted to plant on the top) ; small spars 
were then lashed across, commencing from the bottom, 
and ascending each as it was secured, till the whole 
was complete, when it resembled the rigging of a ship's 
lower masts. The mounting this solitary column re- 
quired some nerve, even in seamen ; but it was Still 
more appalling to see the Turks, with their ample 
trowsers, venture the ascent. The view from this 
height is commanding, and highly interesting in the 
associations excited by gazing on the ruins of the 
city of the Ptolemies, lying beneath. A theodolite was 
planted there, and a round of terrestrial angles taken ; 
but the tremulous motion of the column affected the 
quicksilver in the artificial horizon so much as to pre- 
clude the possibility of obtaining an observation for the 
latitude. 

Various admeasurements have been given of the 
dimensions of Pompey's Pillar ; the following, however, 
were taken by a gentleman who assisted in the opera- 
tion above described : — 

Feet In. 

Tojp of the capital to the astragal (one stone) 10 4 

Astragal to first plinth (one stone) 67 7 

Plinth to the ground 20 11 

Whole height 99 10 

Measured by a line from the top 99 4 

It w^H tfc remembered, however, that the pedestal oi 
tne Column does not rest on the ground, 

*'IU'*Rtag6h being. 4 6 

The height of the column itself is therefore. . 94 10 



X 



F«et b. 

Diagonal of the capital. . . . . . 16 11 

Circumference of shaft luMer jpart) ....... 24 2 

-\ „ (low*r]Wh) .; 27 2 

Length of side of the pedestal 16 6 

The tWd reaftih£& of the inscription are as follow *— 

44 To Diocletiarrns Augustus; most altotttbte Emperor, 
tutelar deity of Alexandria, — Pontius, Prefect of Egypt, 
dedicates this." 

44 Posthumus, Prefect of Egypt, and the people of 
the metropolis, (honour) the most revered Emperor, 
the protecting divinity of Alexandria, the divine Ha- 
drian Augustus." 

Of these readings, which certainly have but little re- 
semblance, the former is considered the better. It will be 
recollected that some of the characters cannot be traced 
at all, and others but faintly ; and the various ways of 
supplying the deficiencies, according to the ideas of 
the advocates of either, will account for the very wide 
difference that exists between them. 



THE PARSEES. 



Ha vino, in a preceding Number, given an account of 
the " Place of Fire," near fiakou, in Shirwan, we have 
been led to think that our readers would not be un- 
interested by some information concerning the very 
singular people by whom these fires are regarded with 
devotion, and to which they make pilgrimages. The 
habits and practices of the Parsees are, however, so 
much the result of peculiar opinions, that, to make the 
account intelligible, it becomes necessary to state the 
principles of their religious system, — a system which, 
although long prevalent throughout the Persian empire 
hi its state of greatness, is now only professed by a sect 
few in number, and who, like the Armenians and Jews, 
are a dispersed people, oppressed in the countries once 
their own, and, therefore, found chiefly in the lands of 
strangers. 

In very early periods there existed in Persia a system 
of religion which we call by the name of Magianism. 
In its early form, this system endeavoured to account 
for the presence of evil by teaching the existence of two 
great and coeval principles, or beings, who were, re- 
spectively, the authors of all the good and evil in the 
world. Light was considered to contain more of the 
good principle — td symbolize its presence better than 
any other element or object ; and, therefore, a religious 
homage was paid to the sun as the most perfect source 
of light : — not, as the Magians were careful to explain, 
that they adored the sun, but the good principle whose 
presence it manifested. In these early times the Per- 
sians had no temples, but worshipped upon their moun- 
tains, because, by a building, the beams of the sun 
would be wholly or partially excluded. 

In the course of time these simple doctrines became 
corrupted, or nearly lost, when Zoroaster, whom the 
Persians call Zerdusht, aroae, at a period by no means 
distinctly ascertained, bu^probably in the reign of 
Darius Hystaspes, and ultimately succeeded in restoring 
the old belief in a form somewhat modified and im- 
proved. He did not disturb the doctrine of two go- 
verning existences, — the one good and the other evil* 
— but he especially taught the pre-eminence of one 
supreme being, called, in the 4 Desatir,' ,4 Mezd&n." 
Zoroaster also, without disturbing the ancient rever- 
ence for the sun, seems to have first introduced the 
worship of fire, that the believers, when the sun was 
obscured, might not bt without -the symbol of the 
divine presence. For this purpose he furnished * Hie 
which he pretended to have obtained from heaven, 
and from which the sacred fires in all the place* oft 
Mafeian worship were kmtHeo. This introduction 
led to the erection of temples in which the licced firej 



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night htb p?i»n*4. TJw Pwecs pretend that the 
first wHieh IIPW Wn in fchejr te%lea Tmye been propa- 
gated from thai winch Zoroaster supplied, and which 
tm never ye4 been lot t, although qften only preserved 
y puraeles from extinction. The temple fires were 
• aheriahed with great care and respect. They were only 
fed with certain woods accounted particularly pure, and 
deprived of the bark; an4 were never blown, either 
With bellows or by the breath. Indeed, the tyagi never 
approached the sacred fire but with covered mouths, 
)tst it should be defiled by their breathing ; and to cast 
an unclean thing upon it, or otherwise to pollute it, 
waft a crime punished with death, Besides this reve- 
rence paid to fire, a certain respect was entertained for 
the other elements, which they were also pareful not to 
pollute. Hence their peculiar custom in the exposal of 
the dead; for they considered that the fire would be 
defiled if they were burned, the earth if they were 
interred, and the water if they were subrnsr,ge& 'the 
bodies pf the dead were, therefore, exposed pn t°were 
or platforms until reduced to skeletons by bin} a of prey, 
and by the natural progress of decomposition : (he bones 
then seem to have been cpl)ectec) 9 encjosep in Jars, and 
deposited in barrows, or large moup4s pf earth- Jt* 8 
said that they drew oonclusjpns cpncernjng the condition 
of the deceased in another state of existence, from 
observing what part of the body was first aUaeHe<} by 
the birds. 

. These opinions and, practices continued tp prevail in 
Persia until the conquest of that country by the 
Arabians, who were actuated by a particularly bitter 
enmity to the worshippers of fire. At the present time 
the term " Qaur " (Infidel) is applied, \n a general 
way, to all who are not Moslems, in Turkey and other 
Mahomedan countries; but in Persia, when simply 
used, it is always so understood of the Parsees as to 
become, in effect, a proper name. On the subjection 
of the country to the Arabians, the bulk of the nation 
probably embraced the faith of the conquerors, and 
most of the remainder were obliged, by the persecution 
they suffered, to emigrate. The small number now in 
that country are found chiefly in the great commercial 
city of Yezd, in the sandy and sterile province of 
Kerman. They have there been permitted to ereet 
a fire- temple, in which they say the sacred fire of 
Zerdusht is preserved, and they are allowed a magis- 
trate of their own. Put in return for these privileges, 
heavy taxes are extorted from them ; ana the Qaurs 
generally are regarded with the utmost aversion and 
contempt by the present race of Persians, who do not 
hesitate to propagate the most absurdly horrible stories 
of this really qujet and inoffensive peopje, — accusing 
them of eating children, and other enprmities. 

But the great body of the Parsees, to the number of 
120,000 families, reside within the limits of the British 
Presidency of Bombay ; and they contribute the large pro- 
portion of 6000 families to the population of the capital. 
The British government u^ India does not possess a 
body of more useful, wealf^, and welirbehaved subjects 
than the Parsees; nor has any other class of natives 
connected itself so intimately with the English. The 
habits of this people do not oppose such barriers as 
obstruct a free intercourse with Hindoos and ftfaho- 
medaus. They have no caste^— they eat all kinds of 
food, — they drink wine, and have but one wife. The 
wealthier families have adopte4 much pf the English 
manner of life, and the sons are taught the English 
language. Almost every European house pf trade in 
Bombay has a Parsee partner, who frequently furnishes 
the principal part of the capital. Nearly all the island of 
Bombay belongs to the Parsees. They are exceedingly 
munificent in their charities, relieving the poor and 
distressed of all tribes, and supporting their own poor 



190 



known. The more opulent are merchants, ship-owners, 
and extensive land-holder^; wtolle tte huffifcte? t*rtleT*wt 
cultivators, weavers, Shop-keepers, ftnd tt>llt*#«ral*t ttf 
the mechanic arts except those connected witfc file. rt 'ii 
consequence of their scruples In this respect* ffeifct at* 
among them no silversmiths, or Other Workers of the 
metals; and the use of fire-arms being abhorrent to 
their principles, none are soldiers. As they concur with 
their ancestors in the dislike of a seafaring life, none 6f 
them are sailors ; — in them this is probably a matter of 
principle, but it is singular that the modern Mahorfledari 
Persians participate fully in this feeling, and, indeed, 
retain among them more indications of the ancient 
religion than they would like to be told. We ntay, as 
instances, mention that the figure of the suit is sltH 
impressed on some Persian coins * and a festival 1s stIH 
observed which was originally instituted in honour of 
that luminary. This account of the present eonctition 
of the Parsees shows that they have greatly fJrespeted 
under the English government ; for, about a eenlnfry 
since, the Parsees of India were represented by tra- 
vellers as being in a Very degraded and depressed eott- 
dltion ; and, until of late years, they have been verj 
much misunderstood and misrepresented. 

The Parsee population is divided into clergy and 
laity (Mobed and Bodeen). The clergy and their 
descendants are very numerous, and distinguished from 
j the laity by wearing a white turban ; but they follow 
all kinds of occupations, except a few who are par- 
tipujarly selected for the service of the churcnes. 
These are plain and unorpamented buildings, crowded 
every day by the clergy, but attended by the laity only 
on certain days. The mass of the people have, with the 
dress, adopted many of (he Hindoo customs, and the 
language of Guzerat ; and very few are acquainted with 
the language of their original couptry, or study the 
h! lory of their race. 

The modern Parsees retain most of the practices and 
opinions of the ancient Magians. At Bombay they may 
be seen, every morning and evening, crowding to the 
esplanade to salute the sun at its appearance and 
departure. They observe very nearly the ancient mode 
in the disposal of the dead. The bodies are exposed 
on a stone platform, inclosed by high walls, and are 
soon consumed by birds of prey. The bones are col- 
lected in a sort of well, in the centre of the platform, to 
which there is access by a subterraneous passage to 
facilitate the occasional removal of the bones. No 
strangers are allowed to witness the obsequies, or, in- 
deed, to examine the platforms, of which there are five 
in the island of Bom nay, but not all in use Opulent 
persons have for their families private sepulchres of a 
similar construction. As a matter of principle, it does 
pot appear necessary that the btdies should be exposed 
to any other action than that of the elements, for in 
some private sepulchres the services of the birds of prey 
are dispense4 with, and their ingress prevented by an 
iron grating. 

The sacred book of the Parsees is called the Zenda- 
vesta, and claims Zoroaster for its author. In many 
particulars it coincides so remarkably with Ihe Hebrew 
Scripturps as to countenance the conjecture that, if 
rpally of such antiquity as it pretends to, the author 
had obtained a knowledge of the Jewish religion from 
Daniel, or some other of the Jewish captives at Babylon 
and Susa. The Parsees of India have, of late years, 
exhibited considerable anxiety to acquire information 
concerning the religious practices and opinions of their 
ancestors ; and, in order to obtain it, by collecting books 
and otherwise, they have sent occasionally intelligent 
persons to Persia. By this means, they, some years ago, 
obtained a copy of the * Desatir,' which, with an English 
version made by a Parsee priest, has been printed 



so liberal a manner thai a Parsee beggar is un-? ^ at Bombay under British patronage. 



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[April 12, 



„ LUULII considerable interest ; but, although it pretends 
to high antiquity, contains internal evidence of having 
been written at a period considerably later than the 
conquest of Persia by the Arabians. As the work is 
very rare in this country, it may not be amiss to quote 
the commencement as a specimen : — 

" Let us take refuge with Mezdan from evil thoughts 
which mislead and afflict us. In the name of Shemta, 
the bountiful, the beneficent, the kind, the iust ! In 
the name of Lareng ! The origin of Mezdan's being 
who can know ? Except himself, who can comprehend 
it? Existence, and unity, and identity are inseparable 
properties of his original substance, and are not ad- 
ventitious to him. He is without beginning, or end, or 
associate, or foe, or like unto him, or father or mother, 
or wife, or child, or place, or position, or body, or any- 
thing material, or colour, or smell. He is living, and 
wise, and powerful, and independent, and just ; and his 
knowledge extends over all that is heard, or seen, or 
that exists : and all existence is visible to his know- 
ledge at once, without time ; and from him nothing is 
hid. He doth not evil, and dwelleth not with the evil- 
inclined : whatsoever he doeth is good." 



emperor, with the imprudent threat that, unless tT 
pension were regularly paid, he would no longer deta 
Orcan. This threat seems to have afforded the sultan 
pretext for rekindling the war. Had that been wantin 
he would, doubtless, soon have found some other ; I 
the beautiful city designed at its foundation to be tl 
capital of the civilized world, and within whose walls t] 
" Empire of the East " was almost confined by the e 
croachments of the Turks, had long been an object 
desire to that ambitious nation, and they had previoui 
made attempts to obtain possession of it. Mahomt 
therefore, determined to complete the conquest of tl 
feeble empire by the capture of Constantinople ; and 
terminate by one terrible catastrophe the strife of mai 
apes between the Moslems and the Greeks, He eoi 

ess on the E 
six miles fro 
his grandfath 



MAHOMET II. 

Mahomet II., the Turkish emperor, surnamed u the 
Great " and " the Victorious," was born at Adrianople, 
in the year 1430, and was first called to the Othman 
throne in the thirteenth year of his age, by the voluntary 
abdication of his father, Amurath II. But in the year 
following (1444), the welfare of the empire, which was 
menaced by the King of Hungary, recalled Amurath to 
the head of the army and of the government until the 
danger was over-past, when he again withdrew from 
public life. Four months after this second abdication, 
a revolt of the janizaries, and the warlike preparations 
of Christian princes, apprized Amurath that the reins 
of empire had been confided to hands not yet strong 
enough to guide them. Controlling, therefore, his 
desire for retirement, he resumed the sovereign power, 
and retained it until his death in 1451. On both these 
occasions Mahomet resigned the supreme authority into 
his father's hands without a murmur; but he never 
forgave the ministers by whom the measure had been 
advised. 

He commenced his new reign by some acts of cruelty 
in the interior of the seraglio. Under the pretext of 
assuring his own repose and that of the empire, he 
caused to be destroyed his young brother, whom Amu- 
rath, in his last moments, had earnestly recommended 
to his kindness and protection ; and then, to appease 
the cries and the despair of the poor child's mother, he 
delivered up to her vengeance the person by whom his 
sanguinary order had been executed. 

We do not think our readers would be much interested 
if we traced the progress of this famous monarch in that 
career of conquest which commenced very soon after his 
accession to the throne, and in which he is flatteringly 
described as having won two empires, twelve kingdoms, 
and upwards of two hundred cities, and certainly esta- 
blished a claim to a place not the lowest among those 
whom it is the custom to call " Great." We shall, 
therefore, limit our account to those operations which 
transferred to the Turkish dominion the capital of the 
Christian Empire in the East. 

On his accession, Mahomet renewed the peace with 
the Greek Emperor, Constantine, to whom, at the same 
time, he agreed to pay a pension for the expenses and 
tafe custody of his uncle Orcan, who had, at a previous 
period, withdrawn to the court of Constantinople for 
safety. The carelessness of the sultan in the observance 
of this clause of the treaty excited the complaints of the 



xius he furnisb 
piece of whfc 
, could carry 
f 2000 yarc 



n 
n 
C 

haa erected on me abuuic suure. 
with troops and formidable 
cast in brass by an Hunga 
ball of 600 lbs. weight tc 

The sultan was thus enabled to ciose tne entrance oft 
Black Sea against the Latins, by which the commei 
of Constantinople was ruined, and its inhabitants, who 
principal supplies of food were drawn from that quart 
threatened with starvation. Every preliminary meaw 
having been completed, Mahomet at length appear 
before Constantinople, on the 2nd of April, 1453, 
the head of an army of 300,000 men, supported b] 
formidable artillery, and by a fleet of 320 sail, mos 
store-ships and transports, but including 18 gallies 
war, while the besieged could not muster more th 
10,000 effective soldiers for the defence. This vj 
disparity of force leaves little room for admiring t 
prowess and military skill of the victorious par 
The sultan himself superintended all important o\ 
rations; and whilst be punished the slightest d 
obedience with instant death, he was not sparing 
magnificent promises of reward to* stimulate his troc 
to exertion. He pledged himself that, when the c 
should be taken, he would give it up for three days 
their pillage, reserving to himself the buildings on 
This promise had great effect upon the men, each 
whom hoped to be enriched by the spoil. But the 1 
sieged made so vigorous a defence under the brave E 
peror Constantine Palsologus, that for fifty-three di 
all the efforts of the assailants were unavailing. 1 
defenders of the city had drawn strong iron cha 
across the entrance of the port, and Mahomet saw, tl 
unless he could get some of his vessels into the GoU 
Horn*, his success was doubtful, and that at best 
defence might be greatly protracted. He, there* 
contrived to conduct a part of his fleet for ten miles o 
the land on a sort of rail-way, from the Bosphorus i 
the harbour, and caused a floating battery to be c 
structed and occupied with cannon. This sealed the 
of the imperial city. ComgHitinople was taken by sU 
on the 29th of May ; andThe last Emperor of the £ 
was killed, sword in hand, in the breach by which 
enemy entered. According to the promise of the sull 
the inhabitants and their property were left for three d 
at the disposal of his army. The terrified people fie* 
the cathedral of St. Sophia, and other sacred places, 
safety, many hoping that the barbarians would — 
violate such sanctuaries, and most expecting that a 
miracle would be interposed in their behalf. The closed 
doors were broken with axes ; but the Turks are not, 
even by their enemies, accused of an immoderate or 
wanton effusion of Christian blood. As they encountered 
no resistance, they were content to select from* the 
multitude those whose appearance afforded promise of 
* The reader will find a plau of Constantinople in ft)q. 24 of tfrm 
' Fenny Magaxioe,' which will elucidate this account. *^^—~ 



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[Mahomet II., from a Drawing in the British Museum by Gentile Bel^inL] 



a profitable ransom or sale^ slaves. The male captives 
they bound with cords, daVfche females with their veils 
and girdles, and drove them, to the number of 60,000, 
from the city to the camp or fleet, where they who 
could not obtain the means of purchasing their ransom 
were exchanged or sold, according to the caprice or 
interest of their masters. 

On the expiration of the three days allowed for 
pillage, Mahomet entered Constantinople in triumph, 
attended by his viziers, pashas, and guards. u At the 
principal gate of St. Sophia he alighted from his hone, 
and such was his jealous regard for that monument of 
his glory, that, on observing a zealous Mussulman in 
the act of breaking up the marble pavement, he ad- 
monished him with his scimitar that if the spoil and the 
captives were granted to the soldiers, the public and 
private buildings had been reserved for the prince. By 
Iiis command, the metropolis of the Eastern church was 



transformed into a mosque: the crosses were thrown 
down, and the walls, which were covered with images 
and mosaics, were washed and purified, and restored to 
a state of naked simplicity. On the same day, or on 
the ensuing Friday, the muezzin, or crier, ascended the 
most lofty turret, and proclaimed the ezan, or public 
invitation to prayer in the name of God and the 
Prophet ; the imaum preached ; and Mahomet II. per- 
formed the namaz of prayer and thanksgiving on the 
great altar where the Christian mysteries had so lately 
been celebrated before the last of the Caesars, From 
St. Sophia he proceeded to the august but desolate 
mansion of a hundred successors of the great Constan- 
tino ; but which in a few hours had been stripped of 
the pomp of royalty. A melancholy reflexion on the 
vicissitudes of human greatness forced itself upon hm 
mind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian 
poetry ;«— * The spider has wove his web in the imperial 



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[Apei** M, 



palace ; and the owl hath sung her watch-son* on the 
towers of Afrasiab.' "—Gibbon, 

The conflicting statements o 
historians render it difficult to i 
of the sultan's conduct to th 

character in general. The mosi pro Da Die conciusiorv is 
that the fierceness engendered by the strife of wi 
gave place to human sympathies. That he was i 
severe when his clemency was abused, or his maijuai?pj 
disobeyed, and cruel when his interest stimulation w£ 
have abundant evidence to show ; but that gratuitous 
cruelty which the Greeks attribute to hir ly 

proved, nor does it consist with the cultft d 

refined tastes which even his enemies t s- 

sessed. It is certain that he caused the djk&y oi ^on- 
s tan tine, which w 
the golden <?agl< 
honourably interr 
and father of th< 
soldiers the ransoi 
and although ma 
Boon after butchei 
there is room to s 
a conspiracy agaii 
the conquered cit] 
the remnant of it 
safety and pro tec 
the churches in tl 
and the sultan ga 
ture after the mai 

Having thus r 
splendid circums 
we spare our rea 
which establishe< 
to the Adriatic, 
his arms received 
from the Knight 
king, in an expe 
year 1481, being 
time when he had 
by the recent sieg 
the threatened si 
power. When d] 

have taken Rhodes, and conauerfed ltalv." to be efl- 
graved on his 
successors to 1 

In character 
with some m 
Under the tuil 
father, Mahoi 
progress in tl 

native tongue it is affirmed that ne spoke of Unflarstooa 
five languages, — the Arabic, Persian, Hebrew, JVatiik 
and Greek. With geography and history hifc was wel] 
acquainted ; and the lives of the heroes of th* flfst, 
and perhaps of the West, excited bis emujatipifc. JJja 
skill in astrology is excused by the folly of his time and 
people, and implies some acquaintance with mathe- 
matical science ; while his taste for the arts is indicated 
by his libera] invitation and reward of the painters of 
Italy. His sobriety is attested by the silenee of the 
Turkish historians, who accuse only three of their sultans 
of the vice of drunkenness ; and it is related that he cul- 
tivated his gardens with his own hands, and sold part of 
the produce to purchase the other articles required for 
his table. But, with all these evidences of his high 
merit, there can be no doubt that the circumstances 
of his life often indicated passions at once inexorable 
and Furious. " He was doubtless a soldier/' says Gib- 
bon, u and possibly a general ; but if we compare the 
means, the obstacles, and the achievements, Mahomet II. 
must blush to sustain a parallel with Alexander and 
Timour." 

Our w po^-cut is taken from a draiyiH£ of fcf Mioroet II, 



! executed bv Gentile Bellini. The drawing is in the 

um, forming one of Mr. Payne Knight's 

'he sultan having applied to the Venetian! 

to send him a skilful painter, this artist 

for the purpose, and proceeded to Constan- 

r iinoDie./ ne was well received by Mahomet, for whom 

ted several pictures, and was, on his departure, 

id with a chain and collar of gold, and a purse 

oit-ouui) ducats. We laugh now at the fable that the 

suit an, having noticed a defect in the painting of a head 

recently separated from the body, purposely struck off the 

" 'ad of a slave to demonstrate to Bellini the truth of 

criticism. Gentile, on his return to Venice, executed 

me engravings of his own works on metal. As a 

inter, he possessed considerable talent, although the 

. He 
harac- 
urkish 



LLSE 



from 

great 

ks, but 

drunk 

either 

m the 

never 

ays at 

week. 

ce the 

>n one 

Idle ot 

house. 

in the 

ice are 

half a 

s were 

more 

lights 

7 puurenm^ ana k&jjusluiuicu wiui mm uu ius cunduct. 

Seeing, however, that hours formerly devoted to work 

were now fhus Wasted with dissolute companions, he 

3ne day said to him, u Robert, Vou know I brought 

yOli from Scotland, and placed yoii in a situation which 

enabled you to obtain very good wages. But you have 

0/lA improved its advantages as you ought, and latterly 

you have not been contented with drinking on the 

Saturday night, but have encroached on the week, and 

] your w3nt la no# seriously neglected. I find that you 

' few s^end not less than seven shillings weekly, and I 

perceive that your wife and children do not exhibit 

their accustomed neatness and order. I have formed 

a decided 4 resolution • You must either abandon drink- 

mgV and deposit witl di\ of the sum you 

usually spend at the leave the works." 

Robert was startled :— he had feelings, and all traces of 

good principle were not gone. He begged time to 

consider; and at length pledged his word to abandon 

the alehouse altogether, and to leave three shillings a 

week in the hands of his employer. That judicious 

friend applauded his resolution, and administered a few 

words of comfort and advice, which a kind heart has 

always at command and knows so well how to apply. 

He said, " I will deppsit your weekly sum in the savings' 

bank." 4 * No," said Robert, " I have no objection to 

deposit the money with you, Sir ; but I consider the 

establishment of savings' banks to be an attempt of the 

government to get the money of the poor into their own 

hands." This engineer reasoned with him on the 

absurdity of such a supposition ; explained the real. 



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character of those useful institutions :— that thejr Were 
expressly designed to benefit the working classes ; artd 
that the money deposited in theni was* perfectly safe, 
and every shilling gained interest. Robert was in- 
flexible. He had imbibed against savings* banks a 
prejudice which could not be shaken. lie could resolve 
to leave the alehouse and the skittle-ground ; and he 
could, with satisfaction, intrust his money in the hands 
of the engineer, — but it must not be deposited In the 
savings' bank. 

From that time Robert was ; so constantly at his 
work, and exhibited such sober and regular habits, as 
in a short time fully re-established him in the confi- 
dence and esteem of his employer. Even oh the 
Saturday nights he was no longer lb be found at the 
alehouse ; and his Sunday leisure was empldyed in a 
befitting manner. His whole appearance became 
altered, and everything about him denOtfed a reformed 
man. Several years had passed wlthoiit any relapse 
into his former habits, when the engineer called him 
one day into the office, arid inquired IF he had kept any 
account of the money he had deposited weekly in his 
hands. Robert said he hiid not. *' See what a little 
fortune you possess, then ;" said his employer, handing 
to him a depositor's boott from the savings* bank, with 
liis own name at the head of the account. " Forty-six 
pounds seven shillings ! " exclaimed the astonished 
Robert. " t)o f possess so large a sum, Sir?" ** Yes," 
replied the engineer, " I thought it nly duty to depart 
from your injunction relative to the savings' bank ; had 
the money remained iii my hands yoii wdiild now only 
have possessed forty-two pounds ; you' have consequently 
gained upwards of four pounds by my having deposited 
it in the savings' bank, and the whole can be had at 
any time after a few days' notice. Now their, Robert, 
will you say that the savings' bank is riot ail institution 
serviceable to man — serviceable to. every one who wishes 
to make himself independent by providing, in .the time 
of strength and prosperity, against th* hour of weak- 
ness and need —against the rainy day by . wiich, at 
some time or other, most men are overtaken?" Robert's 
mind was deeply impressed : and, with mm 
he thanked his kind benefactor for rescuing 
the paths of drunkenness and degradation, 
him to seek his respectability and happiness 
habits and home enjoyments, arid for tiisre 



Apartment, hollowed but tinder the earthy which is now- 
filled with stbnes and rubbish. The walls on the out- 
side are faced with hewn stones of a square shape, and 
are pierced in various places with windows, six feet deep 
and three broad, formed by semicircular arches resting 
bri strong pillars. This tower was probably the keep 
of the ancient castle, and, as usual, has been preserved 
From destruction by its extraordinary solidity and 
strength, long aflfer time has swept away nearly all the 
surrounding parts of the building. It stands imme- 
diately within the great gate of entrance to the fortress, 
which is at the western extremity of the inclosure, and 
of which this tower was no doubt the main defence. 
The access to the promontory from this side is by a 
steep ascent ; and the gate is guarded by a deep fosse 
br ditch, with a draw-bridge over it. The whole in- 
closed space comprehends about nineteen acres; and 
the fosse before the gate is continued along the entire 
length of the wall leading southward from that point to 
the sea. As the old feudal stronghold looks down upon 
the sea oil the one hand, it has the town of Scarborough 
stretched below it and around it on the other. 

Scarborough Castle was built about the year 1186, 
by William. Earl of Albemarle and H older ness, one of 
the i of the Norman nobility then settled 

in E grandfather, Odo of Campania, had 

come ovej- wuii me Conqueror, who had given him one 
6T his own daughters, Adeliza, in marriage. William, 
surnamed Le Gros, or the Fat, being possessed of ex- 
tensive estates in Yorkshire, was permitted by King 
Stephen to build this fortress as a residence and defence 
for himself agafnst the turbulent and only half-subdued 
inhabitants Of the district. Wh6n Henry II. came to 
the" throne, with the view of curbing the power of his 
JJerce nobility, he ordered the demolition of most of 
those places of strength which, in the preceding reigns, 
had been erected in all parts of the kingdom ; but, on 
viewing the castle of Scarborough, he was struck with 
the advantages of its position, which made it quite im- 
pregnable in those times ; and, instead of destroying it, 
he onlv seized upon it and declared it the property of 

vn. It has ever since remained one of the royal 
and it is still occupied by a small garrison, 

ag usually of a few invalids, who are accommo- 

1 barracks of modern erection. 

;astle, after it was taken possession of by Henry 



prejudices against savings' banks, making him me con- | II. « is stated to have been enlarged and strengthened 
tented p( one old chronicler asserts that he 

and deci We may suppose from this that the 

in the ha lade to it were very extensive. Its 

as been elaborately investigated by 
in his * History of Scarborough*.' 
The ruir ^ e event * n * ts history is the siege 

shire is < c * v ** wars °^ tne seventeentn cen- 

out from * ld for the , kin & h J A Sir {* u & h 

much of the northern part of our island as seen from | V"?™^; * uc P^nientary foroea sat down before 
the German Ocean. It^wns a precipitous wdd lt in t t 1 hc latter part of he yeai r 1643; but the first 
whose eastern terminatioflfceh advances into th- «*- 1 »*»™ li was made on the 18th of February, 1644, under 
rises about 300 feet above the waters. The nri drum » a Scotch _ military 



pn 
part of the ancient castle now remaining stand 
considerable distance back from this bold and in 
sibte front, but on ground which is very nearly s 
vated. It is a huge square tower, still nearly 1(1 
high, but the walls of which show, by their r 
summits and by oth^r indications, that its oi 
height must have been considerably greater, 
side is between 50 and 60 feet in length ; but^ tltt 
being about 12 feet thick, the space in ttye intei 
ifliis inclosed area is now 



:ourage and ability. By 
lined possession of the 
1 tfeeir boldest efforts, 
principal station in the 
r a few hundred yards 
gainst this old building, 
he garrison was directed 
I end of it, forming the 
red down. A few years 

oniy"30 feet square, tfeis im losed area is no* ruins - ° n th ?Jl th tK f 

to the sky; but marks are still discernible of vac **? ™ ^ ■form Uie 

which had formerly divided the ascent into ihree stofiesJ^/ 1 ^ WIU 1 CU was again replied with great slaughter 
each of which must have been about 30 feet from the <* ** ^^favMejdrum himself having received a 
floor to the ceiling. An ffiffittte'fifeflaoe still waOUU* . "WM^-af wtah he died on the 3«a of June following. 



on the ground floor ; but beneath that there is another 



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IQmpti^CHAMLBa KNIOHT, W. LUDGATO 8TRKET »*■••• 

Mattd bj Wuuah Clow»p Dikt fort, Uafetk. 

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|Tna Aiiomen ot in* nnep nerds,— arom tne ncture in tne mum JNupoiton, Dy&pagnototto. j 

Jocbph Ribbra. is the real name of th s distinguished j birth. Spain and Naples disputed for some time as to 
sitist Spagnoletto, merely indicating the country of his I his Wrlh-place ; but it is now generally acknowledged 
Vol. III. • U 

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UmA he wm tfc>rh at Xativa, fcow San Filippo, in the 
kluguom of Valencia, in the year 1588. In 1606 he 
arrived at Naples* where he was so much captivated by 
the striking and powerful style of Michael Angelo Car- 
ravaggio, that he courted and obtained his favour, and 
was encouraged and instructed by him during his first 
residence in that city. He always regarded the works 
of tiarravaggio as his best models. At one time, in- 
deed, after having seen the frescoes of Raphael and 
Aunibal Carracci at Rome, and those of Correggio at 
Parma and Modena, he was induced to attempt a style 
of greater tenderness and grace than thai to which he 
had been accustomed ; but in this style he was so 
unsuccessful that he soon decided on returning to the 
system of his old master. The characteristics of this 
school were its truth, its force, and the striking effect 
of its lights and shadows. The talents of Ribera were 
not tardily rewarded. He was appointed court-painter 
to the viceroy of Naples, the Duke of Ossuna, and 
overseer of all the royal works, in which post he is said 
to have conducted himself with great haughtiness 
to ward^ 1 *ss fortunate artists, and is said to have shown 
~s^uWlcuIar jealousy of Domenichino. In this situation 
he executed several capital pictures, some of which — 
particularly the Descent from i Martyr- 

dom of St. Januarius, whicl worthy of 

Titian, and a St. Jerome— c nong the 

masterpieces of the art. T bera pro- 

duced also a great number of [>hetB, and 

apostles ; and into his pictures of ordinary life he was 
fond of introducing and old men. But 

the subjects which 1 nd in which he ex- 

celled, were of a horrible character, such as the * Flaying 
of St. Bartholomew.' He executed subjects of this 
fearful nature with a minute owever 

curious, can scarcely be call in art, 

for it destroys those pleasuraoie sensations wnich it is 
the chief object of art to product. One of his most 
striking works of this class is that of * Ixion on the 
Wheel,' which is preserved at Madrid. Among the 
subjects of gentler character which he occasionally 
executed, the * Adoration of the Shepherds 7 is one of 
the most celebrated. Our engraving of this perform- 
ance is taken from the great national work, the 
4 Musee Francais,' in which it is thus mentioned : M Ri- 
bera painted the * Adoration of the Shepherds 9 several 
tiSies. There is a repetition of our picture at the 
Escurtal ; sad we are assured that there fo another at 
Cotton* in the sacristy of the Convent of the Augws- 
tine*. M. Le Brun thinks that the picture in the 
It a copy. That in the Musee Napoleon 
to the Duke de la Regina : it was given up 
by the king of Naples, in exchange for 
belonging to the French, which the 
had carried off to Rome." It will be 
. the performance is unequal The prin- 

r^, -— - -> **» % V«g« «■* Child,' are deficient in 

the* Ileal truce which gave their most touching attri- 
bute* to tie * Hdy Families ' ctf RanWle and Cor- ! 
* k but, in troth and 
lof theadorinj 
I Mi of mature a 
'^Principal works et Kinera are at ixapm, at 
, and fet the palace of the kin* cf Spam. The 
cabinets of ttahr are also fo attributed to 

this StftitfLhat they are move \ productions j 

of whom, Fracanzani, is the celebrated J 
been condemned to perish on the 
shurtnrr, in regard to Ins pretension 
by poison tm the place cf Ms eon- ; 




rapidity. After hfttinf maAfe a sojOurn of some yfcan 
in Spain, he returned to Italy, and, on his arrival at 
Rome, received the most flattering notice from the 
pope, by whom he was knighted. He afterwards 
established himsell at Naples. Some accounts say 
that a family misfortune, which he accounted a disgrace, 
drove him to complete solitude, and that he died in 
some place where he was unknown ; but other state- 
ments inform us that he died, in good circumstances, 
at Naples, in 1656, aged seventy- two years. Besides 
his excellence as a painter, Ribera was a superior en- 
graver with aquafortis. 



CHAPPOWS. 





finernefit 

Ribera 

advanced 



continued his professional labours to an 
age; and, being endowed with a prolific 
n* produced Ws pahrtings with astonishing 



The works of Sir Walter Scott have made most readers 
well acquainted with the " forays," or predatory incur- 
sions, by which the borders of England and Scotland 
were so much disturbed previously to the union of the 
two crowns. From the Tigris to the Indus, transac- 
tions very similar to such forays are known by die 
name of " Chappows ;" and we imagine that a short 
account of them may not be without interest, as afford- 
ing materials for a comparison between the state of 
this country in the sixteenth and preceding centuries, 
and a considerable part of Asia in the nineteenth. 

Besides the towns and villages which this extent of 
country, under dine rent rulers, contains, it is abun- 
dantly spotted with the encampments of wandering 
tribes, who, under different names, are probably all 
members of the same great Turkish family, which has 
extended its ramifications so much farther westward 
than the limits we have assigned to the chappow in 
the form we purpose to describe it. This restriction 
is necessary, for the foray in some form or other, diver- 
sified only by the peculiar habits of a people, exists 
wherever a government is weak and a frontier much 
exposed. As we have to consider these tribes only 
with regard to the chappow, in which their usages 
differ very little, it wul not be necessary to quote their 
specific denominations, although we would be under- 
stood as speaking generally of the people called Tur- 
komans, who live chiefly in the country to the east of 
Persia, and who differ little, except in s dash of cha- 
racter more wild and savage, from the nomsdes (Ee- 
lauts) who wander in Persia itself; and who, although 
much under the control of the government, stiD cherish 
their lawless habits, and are always ready to nvail 
themselves of amy opportunity to indulge them which 
the wea k nes s or supineness of that guvenmes* nmy 
afford. 

Their habit* of life make the Turkomans more th«n 
usually attentive to the breed and management of their 
horses, with a particular regard to those qualities which 
are of .most importance to them in their chappows. 
The horses bred and reared by them are so highly 
esteemed in Persia, and fetch such good prices, that 
soiiie o[ the tribe* the strength or cen- 

tmance of the 1 nent to forego their 

diappows, employ r profitably in rearing 

torses for sale. They do not mush this employment, 
However; but look forward in sanguine expectation 
that such stupid times will not last for ever. ** If 
matters go on in tins way*" said a member of one such 
tribe to Sir John Malcolm, * eur sons wul become a 
sat <af fcftachgward horsedealers instead of gallant war- 
riors, and their children wifl be instructed an the ml of 

#4l4ft^^^M^P ^ftfc^M&MVW J^SbMMi jfi^M^^MMd -4^T A^^ ^^MMM ^^B^^^^kw 

occupation of pfcsndering m tfch timvriWr. W« dhsdl 
no mom hnawc ime lYmnjsi firib is hsep — r 1— to idhuna 
and dress our victuals, nor active fellows to rule our 
horses and attend our slacks. Whnt a sad change ! 
And as to our profits in breeding and selling hprses, I 
have known more money given, hi one d*t,ibr r 



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ransom of a nobleman or a wealthy merchant, ttrnsx our 
whole tribe can now make ty tr*$ek«tff W cattle for a 
twelvemonth. 

iPhese so much prised tame aw conejde rabjy beyond 
the average size or the animal in Persia, They measure 
from fifteen to sixteen hands high* and in shape re- 
semble an English carriage horse of the highest breed. 
Their unusual size is attributed to the foe pasturc-lande 
on which they are reared ; and the astonishing capabi- 
lity of bearing fatigue which they exhibit, to their high 
blood and the manner in woieh they are trained. The 
Turkomans ride them with snaffles, and allow them to 
go slouching along with their necks loose, These 
plunderers train their horses as mueh as we do our 
raaer* or hunters ; and before they begin their expe- 
ditions they nut them in ditkm. The 
marches they then perform . They hare 
been known to go one hmiunm wki wrtf miles in 
twenty-four hours; and their bare 
been ascertained to march, witk rhty 
to one hundred and ten mile* uauj, mr * mr might 
together. 

Before preceeding on a chappow, the Turkomans 
prepare some hard balls of barlev-mea), which equally 
form the subsistence of themselves and their eattle, 
being, when wanted, soaked in water to fit them for use. 
It is said to be customary with them in crossing the 
desert of Kerman, and other deserte in which no water 
can be obtained, to open a vein m the shoulder of the 
horse and drink a little of Us blood. They consider 
this to be as beneficial to the animal which loses the 
blood as to the rider who imbibes if. 

The number of persons engaged in a pheppow varies 
greatly. From thirty to fifty mounted robbers, with 
about half the number of led horses, destined to bring 
away the spoil, is perhaps a fair average estimate. 
They do not hesitate to make a bold dash into large 
towns occasionally, but more frequently some flourish- 
ing village is the object of attack. This is sometimes 
made in the open day ; and in an inconceivably short 
time the dwellings are pillaged, the fields often laid 
r waste, the finest of the young men, women, and children, 
made slaves, and the whole party is on its homeward 
flight. The least resistance to them is fatal. The 
houses are then burnt, the old and feeble murdered, 
and all the property that cannot be carried away 
destroyed. Their principal weapon is a spear, rudely 
formed, with a small piece of steel at the point, and 
generally from ten to twelve feet long. This is, in their 
hands, so very effective a weapon that they hold all 
others in light estimation. " We were one day," says 
Sir John Malcolm, " looking at a party of the king's 
guards, each of whom was armed with a sword, a spear, 
a pair of pistols, and a dagger. Rahman Beg (the 
Turkoman mentioned before) tossed up his head in 
contempt, exclaiming, — ' What is the good of all this 
arsenal ? — what can a soldier want beyond a spear and 
a heart ? " Neverthelesaahe Turkomans have the bow 
and arrow also in use, Wr fire-arms are very sparingly 
employed. 

Their treatment of the prisoners they take in their 
chappows is, in the first instance, terribly severe. A 
very recent traveller* in these countries relates that he 
sometimes met them returning from their chappows, 
and dragging their captives after their horses by a cord, 
at the end of which was a hook so inserted through the 
flesh as to embrace the collar-bone. This savage 
process, however, seems to be only resorted to in order 
to subdue the spirits of the more refractory prisoners, 
who are thus made to keep up on foot with the beast 

+ Lieut. Burnes. The writer of tfcb article met that gentleman 
in Persia, and feela pleasure in recording that to his skill, expe- 
rience, ami kindness,!* it profaaelp iadsm* fer the Sfeawrauon 
pfa a* which he hop* ** read* essM 



; to whiah they are attached until quite exhausted, when 
they are placed on the back of a horse, Cap^ Qlmstk's 
account, in Pottmgtya Travel of Hit am* ft j§fb 
the Belochees treat the victims of fafe tWMMi f° 
well illustrates the subject, that we sJWi PWImS of 
his statement. When first taken* the ysrissjpsjps; |Sjsard 
themselves as the most unfortunate beings ht fstsjSt ; 
and, indeed, the treatment they then expevsjftifjiof 
the harshest and most discouraging description, $feey 
are blindfolded, and tied on camels, and m thtt JNIfJper 
transported to prevent the possibility of their ta*j*j)Rg 
bow to return \ and, to deter them from even Wplpfof to 
revisit their native soil, the hair of the wome* sjSfllhe 
bearda of the men are cut off, and the roots totally 
destroyed by a preparation of quick>lime. But they are 
soon reconciled to their fate, and become attached and 
faithful servants. Capt. Christie expressed his surprise 
to the sirdar of Nooshlty that his numerous, slaves 
should work so diligently without any person to oversee 
them. «• Why not?" he replied, •« they art cinthtd, 
fed, and treated like the other members of say Jhmily ; 
and if they do not labour, they are well aware that hfead 
will be scarce, and that they must suffer as well as our- 
selves. It is their interest to produce plenty, fer (hey 
know that they get their share of whatevef faUs to my 
lot." Capt. Christie assented to the juatnesa of his 
observation, but added th*t he should have thfl«ht 
them likely to run away. " Nothing of the Wad!" 
replied the old sirdar, " they are too wise to attfjppt it. 
In the first place, they do not know the waj t# their 
own country ; and even admitting that they did* and 
that they wished to return, they are much, happier 
here, and have less to care for. Were they at home, 
they must toil fully as hard as they do now ; besides 
which, they would have to think of their clothes, their 
houses, and their food. Now they look to me for all 
their necessaries ; and, in short, that you may judge of 
their feelings, I need only inform you that the greatest 
punishment we can inflict upon them is to send them 
about their business." We think it very likely that the 
slaves themselves would not have spoken in a tone very 
different from that of their master. Slavery, in Ma- 
homedan countries, as compared with the general 
condition of the people, is far from presenting a dis- 
advantageous contrast. It is there but a name, and a 
name of which no man is or need be ashamed. 

Persons of such apparent consideration as to warrant 
the captors in expecting a good ransom are, until that 
expectation is relinquished, more favourably treated, in 
the first instance and afterwards, than those who are 
designed for permanent slavery. About two years 
since, the uncle of the king of Oudc was taken prisoner 
by the Turkomans while proceeding on a pilgrimage to 
Mushed. Notwithstanding the plainness of his appear- 
ance, they discovered, from the softness and clearness 
of his hands and feet, that he was not accustomed to 
work or exposure, and therefore reserved him for ran- 
som. He used to speak of his residence among them 
without indignation or complaint. His master, indeed, 
was somewhat of a churl ; but his mistress was very 
kind. They obtained no good thing of which he did 
not get a share ; and although they would not allow 
him to be idle, he was put only to easy work, sqch as 
disengaging cotton from the pods, mending clothes, 
and, occasionally, washing. His superiority in the 
latter accomplishment is within our personal know- 
ledge ; and he confessed that he was proud to know 
something which could render him useful among the 
Turkomans. 

In concluding this subject, it may be remarked, that 
we shall probably embrace a future opportunity of fol- 
lowing up some parts of the above statement by an 
account of the position which a slave occupies in Mt- 
homedan countries. 

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
PEAK CAVERN. 



[Apul 19, 



There is no other county in England which affords 
such a variety of scenery as Derbyshire, or which pre- 
sents so striking a contrast in geographical features as 
that which its northern and southern portions exhibit. 
The southern part of Derbyshire is a pleasant, fertile 
district, not distinguished in its general aspect from the 
other midland counties ; but the northern abounds with 
hill and dale, and the scenery is often romantic and 
sublime. The country gradually rises for about fifteen 
miles to the northward, and afterwards begins to assume 
that mountainous appearance which it continues to 
possess to the extremity. A chain of hills arises, which 
extends to the borders of Scotland. These hills are at 
first of small elevation ; but, being in their progress 
piled on one another, they form \ery elevated ground 
in the tract called the High Peak. The mountains of 
the Peak, although inferior to those of Cumberland, 
constitute the loftiest and most considerable range in 
the midland regions of the kingdom. The highest 
points are Axe-edge, which is 2100 feet above the level 
of Derby, and Kinder-scout, which is 1000 feet higher 
than the level of Buxton. About 700 eminences, and 
50 rocky caverns, dells, and valleys, have been enume- 
rated in the region of the Peak. From the caverns 
which, with the other local peculiarities, have been so 
much celebrated under the title of the " Wonders of 
the Peak," we have selected the ** Peak Cavern," fre- 
quently called " Devil's Cave," and, still more vul- 
garly, u Auld Homey," for particular description. 

This cavern is situated about 100 yards from the 
viHage of Castleton, in a dale of the same name. This 
dale is about six miles in length, and, in some parts, 
two miles in breadth, and is calculated to lie 1000 feet 
below the level of the surrounding country. It has 
been much celebrated for the beauty of its scenery ; 
not, perhaps, that it is in this respect superior to many 



other of the picturesque valleys in Derbyshire, but the 
lovely contrast its luxuriance affords to the sterile, 
bleak, and desolate mountain-tracts previously tra- 
versed, disposes the mind to exaggerate its just claims 
to admiration. 

The cavern itself is one of those magnificent and 
extraordinary works of Nature which at all times 
excite the admiration and wonder of the spectator. 
It would be difficult to imagine a scene more august 
than that which the entrance or vestibule of the cave 
presents. On each side the huge grey rocks rise alraest 
perpendicularly to the height of nearly 300 feet 9 having 
on the left the rivulet which issues from the cavern, and 
foams along over crags and broken masses of limestone. 
The mouth of the cave is formed by a vast canopy of 
rock which assumes the form of a depressed arch nearly 
regular in its structure, and which extends in width 
120 feet, in height 42, and above 90 in receding depth. 
This gloomy recess is inhabited by some poor people 
who subsist by making pa^fthreads, and by selling 
candles and officiating as guides to travellers. Their 
rude huts and twine-making machines, as exhibited in 
the wood-cut (and c in the plan), produce a singular 
effect in combination with the natural features of the 
scene. 

After penetrating about thirty yards into this recess, 
the roof becomes lower, and a gentle descent conducts 
by a detached rock to the immediate entrance of the 
interior hollow, which is closed by a door (?) kept 
locked by the guides. At this point, the light of day, 
which had gradually softened into the obscurity of 
twilight, totally disappears, and torches are employed 
to illuminate the further progress through the darkness 
of the cavern. The passage then becomes low and 
confined, and the explorer is obliged to proceed twenty 
or thirty yards in a stooping posture! when he comes to 



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a. Stream which loses itself among the rocks. 

b. Entrance to the cavern. 

c. Cottages. 

d. Broken rocks fallen from the roof and tides. 
c. Door leading from the outer to the second cavern. 

another spacious opening, whence a path conducts to the 
margin of a small lake, locally called " First Water" (/), 
which is about fourteen yards in length, but has not 
more than three or four feet of depth. There is a small 
boat, partly filled with straw, on which the visiter lies 
down, and is conveyed into the interior of the cavern 
under a massive arch of rock (g), which is about five 
yards through, and in one place descends to within 
eighteen or twenty inches of the water. Beyond the 
lake, a spacious vacuity, 220 feet in length, 200 feet 
broad, and, in some parts, 120 feet high, opens in the 
bosom of the rocks, but the absence of light precludes 
the spectator from seeing either the sides or roof of 
this great cavern. It is traversed by a path, consisting 
partly of steps cut in the sand (*), conducting from the 
first to the " Second Water" (Ar) . Through this travel- 
lers are generally carried on the backs of the guides. 
Near the termination of this passage, before arriving at 
the water, there is a projecting pile of rocks popularly 
called " Roger Rain's House," on account of the 
incessant fall of water from the crevices of the rocks. 
A little beyond this spot is the entrance (at of another 
hollow called the " Chancel" (m). At this point the 
rocks appear broken and dislocated, and the e ides and 
prominent parts of the cavity are incrusted with large 
masses of stalactite. In the " Chancel," the stranger 
is much surprised and impressed by hearing the death- 
like stillness of the place suddenly interrupted by a 
burst of vocal music from the upper regions of the 
cavern. The tones are wild and discordant, but heard 
in such a place, and under such circumstances, produce 
a powerful impression. At the conclusion of the per- 
formance, the singers display their torches, and eight or 
ten women and children — the inhabitants of the huts at 
the entrance — appear, ranged in a hollow of the rock, 
about fifty or sixty feet fromthe ground, to which they 
gain access by clambering up a steep ascent which 
commences in the opening at I. From the " Chancel " 
the path leads onward to the " Devil's Cellar," and 
thence a gradual but somewhat rapid descent of about 
150 feet conducts to a spot called the " Half-way 
House." Neither of these places claim particular notice. 
Farther on, the way proceeds, between three natural 
arches, pretty regularly formed, to another vast cavity 
which is denominated " Great Tom of Lincoln," from 
its resemblance to the form of a bell. A very pleasing 
effect is produced when this place is illuminated by a 
strong light. The arrangement of the rocks, the 
spiracles in the roof, and the flowing stream, unite to 
form a scene of no common interest. The distance 
from this spot to the termination of the entire hollow 



[Plan of the Peak Cavern.] 



Boat in the firat water, which conveys one person ante the 
arch, g. 
k. Great Cavern. 

t. Steps cut in the sand to descend to the second water, k. 
/. Entrance to the passage leading to the " chaneeL" w. 
n. Third cavern, 400 yards from the entrance. 

is not considerable. The vault gradually descends, the 
passage contracts, and at last nearly closes, leaving 
only sufficient room for the passage of the water, which 
appears to have a communication with the distant 
mines of the Peak Forest. 

The entire length of this wonderful excavation is 
about 750 yards, and its depth 207 yards. It is wholly 
formed of limestone strata, which abound in marine 
exuviae, and occasionally exhibit an intermixture of 
chert. Some communications, with other fissures, open 
from different parts of the cavern, but none of them are 
comparable to it in extent or appearance. In general, 
the access to the cavern is easy; bat in very wet 
weather it cannot be explored, as it is then nearly filled 
with water, which rises to a considerable height even at 
the entrance. In the inner part of the cavern a sin- 
gular effect is produced by the explosion of a small 
quantity of gunpowder, when inserted in a crevice of 
the rock. The report seems to roll along the roof and 
sides like a heavy and continuous peal of overwhelming 
thunder. 

Progress of Truth.— The truth-haters of every future 
generation will call the truth-haters of the preceding ages 
by their true names ; for even these the stream of time car- 
ries onward. In fine, truth, considered in itself and in the 
effects natural to it, may be conceived as a gentle spring or 
water source, warm from the genial earth, and breathing up 
into the snow-drift that is piled over and around its outlet. 
It turns the obstacle into its own form and character, and as 
it makes its way increases its stream ; and should it be ar- 
rested in its course bv a chilling season, it suffers delay, not 
loss, and waits only for a change in the wind to awaken, and 
again roll onw*riL—-Coleridge. 



Perseverance.— There was no feature more remarkable in 
the character of Tim ur* than his extraordinary perseverance. 
No difficulties ever hd him to recede from what he had one* 
undertaken ; and he often persisted in his efforts under cir- 
cumstances which led all around him to despair. On such 
occasions he used to relate to his friends an anecdote of his 
early life. " 1 once,' he said, " was forced to take shelter 
from my enemies in a ruined building, where I sat alone 
many hours. Desiring to divert my mmd from my hopeless 
condition, I fixed my eyes on an ant, that was carrying a 
grain of corn larger than itself up a high wall. I num- 
bered the efforts it made to accomplish this object The 
grain fell sixty-nine times to the ground ; but the insect 
persevered, and the seventieth time it reached the top. This 
sight gave me courage at the moment, and I never forgot 
the lesson/'— Malcolm's Persia. 

* The great Asiatic eonautror commonly known by 
of Tamerlane. 



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MAtfA. 



ttttaiiTA* hat not inaptly been termed tin any of the 
ModitJtrreaeaii, and following up tin simile, Malta 
nay be compared to the spring of the feck, poiwiiiy 
advantages from Hs strength mod skuation which ennaot 
In too highly appreciated by England. There is, how- 
ever, this difference in tin two places, tint whin tin 
farmer has had Nature tor the chief engineer, the latter 
n indebted almost entirely to art tor its ahnost 
impregnability. A detailed account of its enti 
lines of fortification would exceed onr present intention, 
which is to confine ourselves to those points n 
mediately connected with the Grand Rut of Valetta, Of 
which the above is a sketch. 

The approach to Valetta, situated near the eastern 
point of the island, is highly picturesque and intonat- 
ing ; the fortifications, close to which vessels must pass, 
mm sufficient to annihilate the most powerful naval 
raree that could be sent against it. There are two 
harbours separated from each other by a narrow neck 
of land; but the northern and smaller of tin two 
is solely appropriated to the purposes uf quarantine, 
a penance which is strictly enforced, as the inhabitants 
law already had an awful lesson in the dread fai plague 
with which they were visited in 1613, 

The southern, or Grand Port, is large, esse, and 
commodious, running up, in a southwest direction, a 
mile and three-quarters; the b re ad th at the entrance 
less than 500 yards. It possesses great advua- 
as a harbour, being free from danger, and the 
t everywhere so bold, that a liac-of-bnttie ship may 
to it and take in a supply of water from pipes 
laid down in several places, or her rjrovniana) without 
the aid of boats. The northern shore is but slightly 
varied from the straight line, but to the south* 
coast is deeply indented by three inlets : the first, 
mediately on passing the point of entrance, called ~~ _ 
Bay, where the French had commenced a palace lor 
Napoleon, which, after remaining thirty years la an 
unfinished state, has at last been converted into a Naval 
Hospital ; secondly, a narrow creek, called Porto deHa 
Galera, or Galley Port, where the gallies of the Ks^sn 
were laid up ; ajid, lastly, Porto della Sanglea, The 
two last are perfectly land-locked. 

On the Valetta side the shore is one continued Hae . 
of wharfs, on which stand the Pratique-office, the Cos- : 
torn-house, the Fish-market, with ranges of storehouses: 
both public and private; and along these wharfs 
merchant vessels generally lie to discharge and load 
their cargoes. The Galley Port is praaeapatly appro- 
priated to the establishments connected with the Naval 
Arsenal, whose storehouses and residences of the officers 
occupy the greater oart of its shores. The Daekvnrd 
is at the head of tne creek, the V 
He eastern shore 
ses not exceed ti 
or water Is sufficient to admk of two-aeefceu amps lying 
at the Dockyard to uailnnas their necessary refuuflst 
the western side is resorted to bysnerohant vessels when 
makimr a loxwr stay. Ife atones of Pari ftaugfes are 
by private yards for b ufl e Sng and re- 
vessele; beyond which, up to tihe bead 
oi ine uaroour, cue country is open. 

The entrance to the harbour « defended by Forts 
Ricaseii on the east and St Elmo on *fce west, wnots 
walls rise almost immediately from the sea-shore, and 
by Fort St. Angelo, a quadruple battery, the lowest 
tier of which is nearly level with the water. This fort 
stands at the extremity of the tongue which separates 
the Galley Port from BigM flay, and aoreniemty nanus 
the entrance. The next point, jflpnwthig she Oaney 
Port from Port Sanglea, is also protected by a battery, 
besides which a line of fortification surrounds the town 



un both sides the harbour, with bastions where 
conducive to the general defence, and towards the land 
the utmost ingenuity of nit has been lavished to render 
the town impregnable. 

The Maltese are an industrious and active though by 
no means a fine race of men; the poverty of their living 
superinduces diseases, among which ophthalmic com- 
nsaints are the n.ost prevailing. The streets of Valetta 
are thronged w' th a squalid set of the most persecuting 
beggars, whose supplications for " carita " are as in- 
cessant, and more annoying to the ear, even than the 
ringing of the bells. 

The boats, which are very numerous, afford a striking 
and pleasing mature in the general appearance of the 
place : though seemingly very clumsy, they are rowed 
with great velocity by the natives, who stand up and 
push at the oar; they are safe and commodious, 
always kept remarkably dean, and painted with 'he 
gayest colours, having an eye on each side ai the stern ; 
they are also provided with a white cotton awning and ' 
curtains for fine weather, and a more substantial cover- 
ing for rain ; they are well regulated, and their hire is 
very nwderate. The boat-races, which are frequent, 
offer a very lively and animated scene. The water is 
beautifully clear, and generally crowded with boys 
bathing, many of whom spend nearly as much time in 
that element as on shore ; the Maltese are universally 
good swimmers and divers ; and the numerous fast-days 
of the Catholic church give employment to many in 
supplying the market with fish. 

Malta is very subject to the oppressive and enervating 
u ecirocco," or south-east wind ; but the " gregali," or 
n o rth - cas t wind, is that which blows with the greatest 
fury, and, blowing directly into the harbour, causes a sea 
across the entrance that would be dangerous to small 
vessels, and cuts off the communication across from 
Valetta to Vittorioso. The surf there beats against the 
walk of the fortifications with impetuous violence ; it 
has even at times removed the guns from the, embra- 
sures of Fort Ricasdi, — and the spray has been carried 
over the top of the palace. 

The island produces some excellent fruits, among 
winch are the oranges and melons for which it is par- 
ticularly celebrated, but the market is chiefly supplied 
foom Sieily, a number of large boats, called " spero- 
aeras," being constantly employed running to and fro. 
Provisions are cheap and abundant, but butchers' meat 
is indifferent. There is a lighthouse in Fort St. Elmo, 
occupying a very advantageous situation. 

Valetta itself is built on the narrow neck of land 
which divides the two ports, occupying an area of 560 
acres. The first stone was laid m 1 566 by the famous 
Grand Master, John de la Vafette, after having, the 
year before, obliged the Turks to abandon a protracted 
and vigorous siege against the Order, who then in- 
habited the opposite shores of the island called Burmola 
and isola. The new city, however, soon surpassed the 
affeer parts in population, buildings, and commercial 
importance, and now gross name to the whole, which 
properly consists of five distinct quarters, or towns, vii., 
on the north side of the port, Valetta and Floriana, 
Oflsi on the south aide, Vittoriosa, Burmola and Isola ; 
—the three latter enclosed in an extensive line of fortifi- 
cation called the Cotonera. 

The streets are at right angles to each other; anil, 
feeing buik on an elevation inclining on either side, 
most of the transverse streets are necessarily constructed 
with flights of steps, which Lord Byron has justly 
a n athemati sed as " cursed streets of stairs," an expres- 
sion that might be drawn from the most pious while 
toiling up them an a sultry summer's day. The houses 
are low, never enoseding a second story; built of the 
Stone of the island, and are provided with balconies to 
most of the windows, and flat terraced roofs, which, 



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[Apul 19, 1914. 



in commanding situations, furnish an agreeable resort 
in the cool of the day, — also to catch the rain, which 
it conducted by pipes to a cistern, with which every 
house is provided. There are likewise public foun- 
tains, the source of whose supply is in the southern 
part of the island, and conveyed to the city by means 
of an aqueduct. The streets are generally wide and 
well-paved, with a broad footpath en each side ; but 
the glare caused by the reflexion ot the sun on the 
sandstone is so intolerably distressing to the eyes as 
to render walking out during the mid/lie of the day 
almost impossible. 

The Palace, at present occupied by the governor, 
was formerly the residence of the Grand Master of the 
Order; it is a large and handsome quadrangular 
building, with a spacious courtyard in the centre ; it 
stands about the middle and highest part of the town, 
and on it is the signal station. It contains some 
beautiful specimens of tapestry, and paintings of the 
Grand Masters, and has a very extensive armoury 
attached to it, with curious specimens of armour and 
weapons. Before this palace is an open space called 
Piazza St. Giorgio, used as a military parade, and en- 
livened in the evenings by one of the regimental bands. 
Near this is the cathedral of St. John, the tutelar saint 
of the Order, — a vast, though externally a remarkably 
plain and unostentatious edifice ; within is a spacious 
oblong area, and on each side are aisles, with particular 
altars or chapels for the different nations composing 
the Order, adorned with paintings and sculpture ac- 
cording to the zeal or riches of the " Tongue," as it 
was technically called, to which it belonged. The 
whole pavement is, however, richly emblazoned with 
the armorial bearings of the knights in mosaic. The 



appointments of this cathedra] suffered greatly during 
the temporary possession of the island by the Frenck; 
— a handsome silver railing round one of the altan 
escaped their sacrilegious rapacity only by being painted. 
The vaults below the cathed ral are also curious. Besides 
St. John, Valetta abounds in churches, the incessant 
ringing of whose bells are among the greatest nui- 
sances of the place. Although the island has been in 
possession of the English since 1800, no Protestant 
church has been built ; a small chapel in the Palace, 
and one at the Dockyard, being the only places of 
worship of the Established Church. The next objects 
are the hotels, or inns of the different nations, where 
they held their meetings : these still retain their dis- 
tinguishing appellations, though now variously applied, 
— some to quarters for officers of the garrison, some to 
private individuals, and one, having the only large 
room floored with plank in the town, has become the 
scene of public assemblies. Valetta has its banks and 
exchanges, and there are also public hospitals, a very 
good theatre, and coffee-houses fitted up with marble, 
where the visiter may enjoy that luxury in a hot climate, 
ice, brought over from Etna. There are two libraries 
one which belonged to the Knights, comprising about 
40,000 volumes of Greek, Latin, French, and Italian 
works ; the other a subscription library, established by 
the English residents. 

Valetta, on the whole, is a gay and interesting place, 
not only from its former eventful history and chivalrous 
masters, but from its present state. Its commercial 
activity, its political importance, and its central situation 
in the Mediterranean, all conduce to make it the resort 
of a great variety of nations, ranks, and characters Iron 
all quarters of the globe. 



[Malta.] 



%• TbtOSot of &• Society for the Difftaoo of Utefd Knowledtfe U at 69, Ltaola't In IfcUi 
LONDON t-CHARLBS KNIORT, S9, LODQATB 8TRKKT. 



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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



132.3 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[April 26, 1834. 



THE RHINOCEROS. 



[The one-horned Rhinoceros.] 



The recent arrival in this country of a young rhinoceros 
of the Asiatic variety, which was obtained at Siam, will 
probably give a peculiar interest to an account of this 
formidable and somewhat rare animal, the tommon 
statements regarding which are, to this day, often 
contradictory and exaggerated. 

The rhinoceros is an inhabitant of most of the 
warmer and milder parts of Africa, of India, of the 
countries lying between India and China, and of the 
islands of Sumatra and Java. Some contemporary 
naturalists have been disposed to recognize four living 
varieties of this animal,— denominated the African, the 
Sumatran, the Indian, and the Javan. We shall, how- 
ever, in our present article, find it convenient to neglect 
minute distinctions, and consider the rhinoceros simply 
in its one-horned or two-horned characters. 

The one-horned, or Asiatic rhinoceros, is a bulky 
and clumsy looking . animal, the specific character of 
which is marked by a single black horn, placed near 
the end of the snout. Its stature seems to vary 
from five to seven feet, and its length from nine 
to eleven. Its general appearance is of the most 
massy character, exceeding in this respect the elephant, 
from the comparative shortness of its legs. The neck 
is very short ; the shoulders are thick and heavy ; the 

Vol. III. 



body is thick, juts out at the sides, and has a hollow 
in the back ; the belly hangs low ; the legs are short, 
thick, and strong ; the feet, which do not in any part 
project much beyond the thick legs, are divided into three 
hoofs, placed nearly vertically, and the middlemost of 
which is the largest and most rounded. The body is 
clothed with an exceedingly thick and rough skin, not 
penetrable by ordinary weapons, destitute of hair, but 
covered more or less with a sort of irregular incrustation 
*hich has been improperly denominated " scales." 
This skin is, about the neck, gathered into large folds : 
a fold also extends between the shoulders and fore legs, 
and another from the hinder part of the back to the 
thighs, so that the animal has the appearance of being 
clad in armour. Between the folds of this thick skin, 
the cuticle, which is left bare, is soft and easily pene- 
trable. The general colour of the skin may be called 
dark grey, with a tinge of violet. To consider it in its 
parts : — the form of the head is compact, and somewhat 
triangular ; the sides of the under jaw stand very wide 
asunder, slanting outwards to the lower edge, and 
backward to the neck ; the edges turn outward from this 
structure of the bones, and the head necessarily ap- 
pears very large. The number of the teeth is thirty, 
thirty-two, or thirty-four, according to the species. 



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That par* of the head which reaches from the com- 
mencement of the horn to the upper lip may be called 
the nose ; it is very thick and bulky, much wrinkled, 
has a circular weep downward to, |(if WPJtruX an*, 
when viewed in front, the whole of this portion, from 
the top of the horn to the ver^e of the lower lip, has 
some resemblance to a bell. Tt e under lip k like thai 
of an ex, but the upper ban moist resemblance to that 
of the horse, and in the do nestic state he is observed 
to use it as that creature does in gr, he ring up hay from 
tfef wit Or grass from the groun 1, The rhinoceros, 
h,a£ also the power of extending this 'ip to the distance 
(\f sji or seven inches from the nose, and then drawing 
it to a point. In this particular he resembles the. tapir. 
With the instrument thus formed, and which in some 
rneasure serves the same end as the trunk of the ele- 
phant, the animal can take up and grasp with great 
force the smallest substances. In the wild slate he 
appears to employ it, with the aid of his 
leaking off the branches of trees, wh 
principal part of his food. This lip is ve 
appears to be the chief seat of the sense o, 
the beast, which of all its senses seems to 1 
effective. The nostrils are situated remarkably low, i\* 
th,e same direction with the opening 
nftt more than an inch from it. The 
rn,yt$h resembling those of a hog in 
i\**rer to the nose than in any other 
are few points regarding any known aiuMi*u ut* nq*>« 
\y$ have aueh opposite statements as tb« ***** of ik* 
r^noceros. We find that those who ha 
attymaj in confinement do not mentic 
(la||ft4ive^ but rather describe all its sens 
of feature, as particularly acute ; whilst 
I'AYt rt^rved it in the natural state inf< 
is, not very quick, as it always makes a si 
charge when attacked, and suffers t\ 
amufoaefc very near without seeming to 
ifne&e eir^uoastances are perhaps quite as wei* aeconnieo, 
fox by th* awkward structure of its limbs, neck, &c, 
aad its hard bulky body, by which it is prevented 
ffojft ImvftWg with facility or speed ; and by the con- 
fyfeftee of the animal in its own powers, and the 
PAOJeofolR of its almost impenetrable hide. Upon the 
M&akt* a)th$ogh this must still remain an ope* queatiMU, 
Mfe ajge meUned to pay particular attentwA ta the *>%**- 
ment of Mr. Barrow, who indicates causes and com- 
pensations which certainly do exist somewhere m ail 
Gaj£$ of peculiar structure or position. 

4tft$K me^^oning the peculiar position of the eyes in 
ttyi rhinoceros, and the extreme minuteness which 
WQim aeem. to render them of small use to so huge a 
9 r *jMW» b$ adds, — " But nature, always provident, 
^a^a ^nwjbted this inconvenience by placing them in ' 
B^°J^t.Wfi sockets* in which, they turn in all directions j 
Uke thffs* of the. little cameleoiv Had the eyes been ( 
pfeic^l if\ the. usual part pf the feice, just below the pro- 
je^og forehead which is very large, the visual rays | 
w,qufcl lu\ve embraced only about ISO degrees or half 
ojf t^jt hogizon, ; whereas, in the. present position, they 
Vrv% a much greater scope, being able,, t should sup- 
pose wiU^mt any motion of the head, to, sweep from 
26Q> t<a %%<!. agrees,"— * Southern Africa,' vol. ii. p. 125. 
\% ift right to mention, that Mr. Sarrow in thjs passage 
spe^t* o( ^he t;wo-horned rhinoceros v but in the two 
ajpe^es tjhere (Joes not appear any difference in the size 
yf po&ition, of the eye. The ears are large, erect, 
fojptpd, a#4 garnished with some stiff black hairs, 
\fljfcich a$peaff npwhere else except on the tail, which is 
ajepfj^c, and flattened at the end. 

Vie. now come. to that singular and distinctive feature 
af tjte ljhinocerosr— its horn— which we have reserved; 
W fta/ticlUar description. Thjs we shall give in. the 
words of Lieut. White, of the United States' Navy, in 



his * Voyage to Coehfn China :'—* The horn of* thk 
rhinoceros is formed much like a limpet-shell, but more 
pointed ; — at its base it is generally about six inches 
taff ty <W incto* wide, aael it pfo^nu^ afcout six or 
eight inches. There is a shallow concavity occupying 
the whole base, resembling the limpet also in this 
respect. Tu J«dge of the goodness of a rhjne*frc*' 
horn, this concave part is put to the ear, and the prater 
the noise, resembling that of the waves on the sea- 
beach, the better the horn is judged to be by the 
Chinese." Some naturalists describe the horn a* solid, 
Axed, and attached to the bone of the nose ; bat it is 
certainly connected with the skin only, and is capable 
of motion. The structure of the horn seems to confirm 
the opinion that the horns of animal* are mtrtlv the 
reault of a particular modification of hair * it ia so 
fibre*** that it seems to be no more than an agglutina- 
tion of hairs. I Is use appears to be that of a defensive wea- 
aa for the purpose of uprooting or rending 
food. In a state of confinement, it has been 
t he strike* with it in his momenta of fan, 
It Hi fend and destroy that which has yielded 
\ it > than any 

I otaer tart in all < of force is 

It is arm to be 

CUM « it, Thun- 

Mt i lets made 

is in a turner a latfte, will Oiscover any poison- 
I v*« w»u V At that to put into them by making the liquor 
i ferment until it mm* quite out of the goblet. Such 
st\y set in «oM and sitae* «*4 are 
t* plants to kmg^ persona of dis- 
ar friends [ or else they are sold at 
jmes at the rate of fifty rix-dollars a 
ied these horns, both wrought and 
aU and young horns,--wkh several 
reafc as well as strong,— I observed 
ion or effervescence; and when a 
*»aiti°n VM WffwmY« suWimaA^ or other similar suh- 
sHaee^ w*A poMted into, o«a »f these horua, there arose 
«a^y % km bubbles, produced by the air which had been 
enclosed in the pores of the horn, and which was now 
disengaged from it*" 

QeakWa the use of its. horns fe* gobjet* and handles 
of swof«fe and 4*£g(t*** there is scarcely any part of the 
aaftaaj which i& ami emntoyed n*e4kina&y in the 
countries it inhabits. The hide a much in request for 
shiekk in most countries where it can be procured ; and 
an extravagant price is sometimes paid for it Burck- 
harctt sometimes saw as much as four or five Spanish 
dollars paid for a piece four inches long and one thick. 
The rhinoceros fives m shady forests adjoining rivers, 
or in the swampy jungles with which its native country 
abounds. It is fond of wallowing in the mud like the 
hog ' % it also grunts like that animal, and its flesh is 
said to have much resemblance to pork, though of a 
coarser grain and stronger taste. Its chief food appears 
to consist of roots, small branches of trees, and sue 
culent plants, some of which are harsh and prickly 
The rhinoceros is a solitary animal ; and the female 
produces one at a birth. The growth of the young is 
very gradual, as at the age of two years it scarcely 
attains half its height. The specimen now to be seen 
at the Surrey Zoological Gardens, which is about 
fifteen months old, is about three feet high. The 
rhinoceros, thpugh possessed of great strength, and 
said to be more than a match for either the tiger or 
elephant, is quiet and inoffensive when not provoked , 
but, in a state of irritation, its undistinguishing rage if 
exceedingly terrible, being enabled, by its astonishing 
strength* to beat down or aside most things that oppoer 
Us straight-forward course. 

Much that has been said above writ be understood If 
apply as Well to the two-horned as to the. one-borne* 



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fMfi PftttftY ttA&AziKB. 



m 



Hithdterba. Th* pHttctytf difference bfcttrfeen th>ffl is, 
tftftt the African vartety has ah Adftlttdhai horn of ft 
fttiialltf sitt situated nearer thfe forehead, arid the akin 
il hot thrown intd the folds fid remarkably as in tike 
Asiatic variety. Mr. Sparmahn dissected a tWo*hOrtt*d 
rhinoceros, not of the largest, size, though it hieasUftd 
sfeven feet high, eleven feet and a half long, and twfehtt 
fefct in the girth. He observed that the viscera greatly 
resembled those of the horse ; the stomach, however, 
Resembled rather that of the hdg, of man. It had no 
gall bladder, in this again resembling the hdrse. There 
Were no ibre-teeth, and the tongue Was perfectly soft 
and smooth. The kidneys were a foot and a half in 
diameter; the milt was four feet long and ottfc foot 
broad ; the heart was a foot and a half long, and nearly 
as broad ; the skin was an inch arid a half thick on the 
back, and still thicker, though less compact, on the 
sides ; and the anterior horn, which is the longest, 
was a foot long and five inches in diameter at the base \ 
the shape was in both horns conical, with the tips' in- 
clining backward. It is remarkable, that the two- 
horned variety has never in modem tim£s befen brought 
to Europe: yet it was much better known than the 
Asiatic variety to the ancients. It is generally repre- 
sented with two horns in the coins aha sculptured Of 
the Romans. The one-horned variety se^ms to* have 
been earlier known than the other, though it did ndt 
afterwards become such an object of familiar knowledge 
to the Romans. It is probably, also, the Indian as£ With 
one horn, mentioned by Aristotle. Pompey introduced 
it into the games of the Roman circus * but, from (he 
time of the fall of the Roman empire, it Was *6 com- 
pletely lost sight of, that, prior to the 18th century, 
naturalists were of opinion that it had ttlver existed, 6r 
that if so, it was extinct. When, however, the Portu- 
guese doubled the Cape of Good Hope, find Opened the 
way to India, the one-horned variety again became 
known, and specimens Were brought tb Europe; the 
first was in the year 1513; but the first that appeared 
in England was not until 16*84. They have rtevar been 
very common, however, as objects 6f ctttidsity 1ft 
Europe. The ortfe represented in our Wdbd-cttt, whieh 
is copied from the splendid • Histoire Naturelle" dea 
Mainmiferes,' by Geoflroy St. Hilaire and f. CuVieY, 
drew much attention in 1915 at Parts, to which placC 
it was taken after having formed part 6f a menagerie" in 
this country, to which it had been brought frdffl India. 

This rhinoceros was still young, arid habitually 
indicated an exceedingly mild disposition, htiftg very 
obedient to his keeper, Whose caresses he seethed to 
receive with much satisfaction. Nevertheless he Was 
subject to violent fits of passion, and at Such times it 
was dangerous to approach him. He thert made pro- 
digious efforts to break his chains and escape from his* 
bondage ; but the ofTer of bread aiid fruits' selddffi 
failed to succeed in soothing his m6sl terrible passions. 
Those persons found the most favour with nim wh6 
ministered the most to his gormandizing appetites J 
and when they appeared, he exhibited nig satisfac- 
tion and expectation by opening his month and ex- 
fending to them his long upper lip. The naffoW HmitS 
6f the cage in which he Was shut up, did not alfoW hihl 
to manifelt much of intelligence. The great 6bject of 
the keeper Was to make him forget his Strength 6* 
forego its exercise. Hence, nothing calculated 16 
awaken his Consciousness of potf er Wa§ retiuired from 
him. Ho open his mouth, to move hfc n&4 to th$ 
right or left, to lift his leg, &c, were the only acts by 
which he was requested to testify his obedtehe*. tth 
great strength, arid the fear that in 6tte of fife ffelsioHs 1 
he might break his cage, ensured t6 hihl the tnbst mltd 
and soothing treatment, and he tf a§ sdfiiputdusly re- 
warded for the least thing he Was required ttt dd. In 
spite of such an unfavourable" situation, the distinction 



ft* made of ptfstms, and the great attention he paid to 

evWythirtg that passed arttund, demonstrated that, !B 
rrtoffe favourable circumstances, hrs intelligence might 
hat* beert more strikingly manifested. 

The young rhinoeerds in the Surrey Zoological Gat* 
dens indicates much mildness of disposition, and he 
appears attached to two goats which came to England 
in thfc same ship with him. His favourite fbdd is Ytot 
arid Sugar, of Which he consuirtes a great quantity 



MUSIC* 
Do the English like music? This is a question id 
Which an answer cannot be given in a word, and tht 
various remarks springing dut of it will not fall under 
any title less general than the one we have Chosen. 
When we ask whether the English like music, we dd 
not mean the small proportion of the population Which 
Has learned to read music, and has, more or less, the 
advantage of studying good models ; but the multitude 
of all ranks, whose acquirements extend no farther than 
to draw a distinction between " pretty tunes " and 
u tigly tttties," and who fall under the two great sub- 
divisidns > of thosfe Who would know * God save the King' 
if it were sting without words, and those whd Would 
not. We must not judge of these by the state of thfc 
public orchestras, or of the musical press. In large 
towns it is true that the first Is some slight indica- 
tion of popular taste, but not much, for the following 
reasons. 

First, the excitement of a popular assembly, th£ 
lights, acting, dancing, &c, render the music palat- 
able, and even interesting, to many who would other- 
Wise dare little about it. We do not exaggerate when 
tfe Say that dancing alone is to many the means of 
making music intelligible. Even the connoisseur beats 
time when he wishes to put himself completely in pos- 
session of what is going on ; dancing is beating time 
With expression as well as regularity, and the sense of 
both may be, and is, aided by the eye, when the ear 
is dull from Want of practice. Next, it must be ob- 
served that there are several distinct qualities of an 
orchestra from which pleasure may be derived, and that 
it does not follow that one person unites the feeling of 
all. The mere tone of some of the instruments is 
delightful, and the succession of different and varied 
species of sound is a source of pleasure which exists 
independently of the subject of performance. When 
We see a person who is pleased with the horn or the 
musical glasses, but cares little for a pianoforte or a 
quartett of stringed instruments, we may be very sura 
that he likes one class of musical tones and nothing 
more. We might also instance regularity, the alterna- 
tion of loud and soft, the swell or crescendo, &c, all of 
Which afford satisfaction to many who neither know 
nor care whether the instruments are in tune or not. 

Composers themselves are sometimes aware of the 
feelings being guided by other considerations than 
melody and narmony. The following writers are 
constant self-repeaters, Corelli, Handel, and Rossini. 
But that which in the first is tiring, good as it is, and 
in the second would be so, were it not so exquisitely 
good | is little felt in the third, on account of the pecu- 
liarly varied management of the instruments. It must 
be observed that the orchestra is now much larger than 
in the time of Handel. Rossini on the pianoforte has 
hot orid- tenth part so many ideas as in the orchestra* 

An eminent pianist informed us that he. Was so 
liable id be taken in by the glitter of a new and excel- 
lently tongtf pianoforte which Tie possessed, that he never 
played his oWn compositions upon it, or used it in 
arranging his ideas, tilt he had first submitted them to 
ah did and beaten instrument on which he had taken 
I his first lessons, the keys of which had been worn by 

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[Afsu.9^ 



his fingers, more than ever were the stones of a church 
by the knees of pilgrims, till they were actually fluted. 
This is a sort of counterpart to the story of Moliere's 
old woman, and the result was the same in both 
cases, — the old woman was always right. 

Haydn had Prince Esterhazy's band always at his 
disposal. He had but to ring a bell and the musicians 
assembled. We very much doubt whether his works 
were the better for it in substance, though no doubt his 
instrumentation^ as it is sometimes called, was greatly 
improved by it. 

On these grounds we do not feel certain that love 
of the orchestra is such a proof of love of music as may 
be generally supposed. And certainly with those who 
live in the country it can be none at all, for obvious 
reasons. Neither is the state of the musical press any 
test, because by it we can only judge of tho3e who have 
musical education. 

It might, perhaps, be urged that national music is the 
proper criterion. But it must be recollected that the 
two countries which have produced the best composers, 
and where knowledge of music most obtains,-7-Ger- 
rnany and Italy, — have very little, if any, national music. 
The French have still less ; the English hardly any. 
The Scotch, Irish, and Swiss, have a great deal ; so 
also, we believe, have the Spaniards. With the excep- 
tion of * God save the King,' and * Rule Britannia,' 
we doubt if there is a national air in England — that is, 
known throughout the whole country to every one who 
can distinguish one note from another. There are, 
however, some nursery airs which, perhaps, may claim 
the appellation. 

To what sort of music then must we go, by which 
to try the taste and the ear of the great mass of our 
countrymen ? It must clearly be to something which is 
heard by all, or nearly all, in the country. At present, 
we can only recollect the devotional music in places of 
religious worship, and the performances of the itinerant 
minstrels. These, which we believe to be the only 
attainable tests, are certainly sufficient, at least so far 
as this, that no nation with a cultivated ear would 
suffer them to be very bad. We begin with the first. 

Devotional music, for common purposes, is very dif- 
ferent in the churches established by law and those of 
the dissenters. The latter appear to dislike the intro- 
duction of any thing but the voice, and seldom admit 
more than a violoncello, or some one simple instru- 
ment. In the greater number of cases no instrument is 
used except that known by the name of the pitch-pipe, 
which sounds the key-note at the commencement. But, 
generally speaking, the individual members of dissent- 
ing congregations take a greater interest in the manage- 
ment than those of the church. Many have organized 
volunteer corps of singers, consisting of all such as 
choose to associate themselves in such a capacity. 
And as it must be supposed that none would choose to 
take trouble for such a purpose who have not some 
little taste for the matter, the consequence is that in 
aissenting meeting-houses in general the singing is 
very fair. That is, time, tune, and the several parts — 
usually not more than four — are tolerably well preserved. 
And we doubt not there are many places in which the 
performance is, in these respects, much above mediocrity. 
Many books of psalm-tunes are written expressly for 
their use, and we now come to the sort of music 
which is chosen. 

When many voices are to join in unison, supported 
only by a small number in the under parts, good taste 
points out that the melody should be excessively simple, 
and the harmony equally so, with a strong, nervous, 
and almost rude character, — not dwelling on minuti®, 
or any very close degree of filling up. All these condi- 
tions are well fulfilled in many of the old chants, and 
pwlm-tunes, yf^ ma y instance particularly the • Old 



Hundredth Psalm,' and, though not so perfect in ov 
opinion, the * Evening Hymn/ Of these, and several 
others, -it is not too much to say that they are magnifi- 
cent. But, unfortunately for the art, the composers of 
this sort of music have left the good models, and have 
produced complex, artificial, trashy substitutes, full of 
false attempts at variety, and unskilful use of contrast 
In the poverty of invention common airs have been 
sometimes pressed into the service, the harmony of 
which is that of the opera, not of the church. For it 
must be observed that sacred music has always had 
combinations peculiar to itself, which we know not, 
though we can feel, why, have been considered as solemn 
in their character. Sometimes an air of an oratorio 
has been adapted, by some mere mechanist, to the long, 
short, or common metre, as the case may be, of the 
poetical versions of the psalms. We remember a 
curious instance, in which some parts of Handel's * I 
know that my Redeemer liveth' have been torn out 
from the rest to form three lines of a psalm-tune, the 
fourth of which has been added by the compiler. 
Thus much, then, we conceive we can surmise from 
the state of music among the dissenters, that though 
there is no incurable defect in the national ear for 
simple time and tune, there is not as yet sufficient 
cultivation to know that which is true and just taste 
from the creations of diseased fancy. 

The churches of the established persuasion may be 
divided into those which have organs and those which 
have not, the latter being mostly in the country. The 
former are under the guidance of the organist, of 
whom usually nothing worse can be said than that it 
were to be wished he would try his voluntaries upon the 
old piano already alluded to, before he pronounced them 
worth playing. Now, with regard to the congrega- 
tions in the dissenting chapels, those who have no ear 
either are silent or perhaps get a hint to be so from a 
friend, for it is astonishing how well a single voice out 
of tune can be distinguished among a number. At any 
rate, we must either suppose this, or that a dissenter, 
as such, is more musical than a churchman, for, as we 
have observed, the singing in the chapels of the former 
is seldom offensive from being out of tune. But, under 
the thunder of a diapason stop, many try their voices 
who, to say the least, do not add to the general effect. 
From what we have experienced, we begin to suspect, 
in addition to our former surmise, that the national ear 
is, though correct after practice, not so keen as in some 
other European countries ; so that, even with the organ 
as a guide, there is a large proportion which wants a 
little drill. 

The churches which have no organs are mostly pro- 
vided with a few instrumental performers from among 
the villagers, among whom bassoons, clarionets, and 
fiddles are common enough. These instruments are 
frequently barely consistent with themselves, and not at 
all so with each other, so that there is some excuse for 
the congregation, who usually avail themselves of it to 
the fullest extent. 

On the whole, then, we think that our devotional 
music is no great index of any love for, or cultivation 
of, the art. We very much wish that it were otherwise, 
and that rectors, curates, and ministers would make 
efforts to effect some reformation. They should recollect 
that they would thus not only promote their great 
object — since there *s no denying that good church 
music is a strong aid to devotional feeling — but that 
they would also be instrumental in spreading a hu- 
manizing art, and thereby furnishing their flocks with 
an additional source of harmless pleasure. One well- 
directed attempt to promote an innocent amusement 
would be worth two sermons against pernicio us ones ; 
— " a fair exchange is no robbery." 

{To be eonturatd.] 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE- 
CATHEDRAL OF EXETER. 



IW 



[West Front of Exeter Cathedral.] 



The Cathedral of Exeter, although, as will be seen, a 
considerable period elapsed between the commence- 
ment and the completion of the building, is remarkable, 
above most of our other cathedrals, for the uniformity 
of the architectural character which it presents through- 
out. The plan of its founder, although he was him- 
self only able to execute it in part, appears to have 
been taken as their guide by all those .who continued 
the structure after him. Its pervading style is what 
may be called the middle Gothic ; — without any thing 
either of the rudeness of the Saxon and the heaviness 
pf the earliest Norman style on the one hand, or of the 



extreme lightness and florid ornament which distin- 
guish the latest stage of Gothic architecture. 

The nave and choir of the church, together with the 
Lady Chapel, to the east of the latter, make a length 
of about 403 feet in all. The nave with its aisles is 
76 feet in breadth, and is crossed by a transept, which, 
however, only extends about 30 feet beyond each of 
the side walls, the two projecting portions being 
formed each of the basement story of a great square 
tower, which has been arched out for that purpose. 
The height of each of these towers, which are massive 
structures, surmounted by pinnacles at the four corners, 



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is about 130 feet. Buttresses, which rise into pinnacles, 
are placed in thick succession both along the north 
and south sides and around the ends of the building, 
giving to the upper part of it considerable richness of 
effect. 

The west front, however, is the most highly orna- 
mented portion of the exterior. The form of the facade 
is peculiar, consisting of a broad- based triangle, ele- 
vated tpoti a parallelogram, so as somewhat to resemble 
u modern gable. Along the two ascending sides of 
the triangle rise a series of lofty and fancifully decorated 
pinnacles, under the central one of which, crowning 
the apex of the Assure, is a window, filled with stained 
glass, of magnificent dimensions, and terminating in a 
pointed arch. Under this Is the great central door 
opening Into the nave, and to the right and left of 
that are the two aisle doors. All the rest of the wall 
is covered by a rich display of sculpture, consisting 
mostly of statues in niches* ranged In a series of tiers, 
and representing a vast number of scriptural characters 
— kings, prelates, and other persons of eminence. 
Time has now obliterated the finer features of this 
elaborate design ; but the throng of figures, though 
they do not appear to have been executed by any means 
in the best style of Gothic sculpture, still make a 
highly imposing show. 

The interior of this cathedral, however, is what 
merits the most admiration. The great height df the 
nave, nearly 70 feet,— the boldly ribbed roof,-^the clus- 
tered columns, of which there are seven on each hand, 
with the lofty arches that rise between,~~the hand- 
some stone screen, which conceals the choir^and 
the numerous monuments, many of them of beautiful 
antique workmanship — are displayed to great advantage 
by the abundant light that is admitted through the 
great western window and the others of smaller dime in 
sions ranged along the north and south walls. The tran- 
sept is also lighted by two magnificent windows, Whleh 
have been cut out in the walls of the great towers that 
form its extremities. Near the middle of the north 
side of the choir Is a singular erection, of which* we 
believe, there ie no other example In the eathedrals of 
this country, bat which is not unfrcquently found in 
continental churches i— a gallery which appears to have 
been designed fbr i kind of orchestra, or i place of 
accommodation' for a band of instrumental musicians. 
It is supported by 19 pillars, between each two of 
whieh stands, In a niche, the figure of a person playing 
on a musical instrument. Among the instruments are 
guitar*, citterns, horns, flutes, Ac. tt still retains the 
name of the Mtattrelr Gallery. The entire length of 
the nave is about 175 ftefc. The choir is about 13© 
feet long. Oti its south side stands the bishop's 
throne, surmounted by * lofty pyramidical e&tiopy, of 
a light and highly fanciful style of Gothic carpentry. 
An elegant stone screen is now placed behind the 
altar in place of a fcrmer one which Was of Wood. 
Here, aha, art several ancient monuments, end 1 monu- 
mental chapels, of the riefceet workmanship. 

The present name &t the city of Exeter te radically the 
same with that which it bore both in the British and in 
the Saxon times, being derived from the river Exe, or 
Eak, Whieh flows past it, Exe* or Esk, properly m*c % 
is merely the old Celtic term for Water. It is the 
settle Word which forms the first syllable of the Irish 
Usquebaugh and the Scotch Whisky, both of which 
signify " the water of life." Prom this word the 
Britons tailed the town built here Caer-wisc,— that is, 
the town on the water or river. They gave the same 
name to the town now called Usk, ia Monmouthshire, 
whiofe also staada on a river that still retains the ap- 
peUatkm of the Usk, another corruption of the same 
urigtool British tent from whieh have been formed 
tho Modem S*e and B*k, The Romans, Latinizing, 



as they usually did, the native word, called both these 
towns Isca, distinguishing the one in Monmouthshire, 
however, as the Isca of the Silurea, and the other as the 
v "' L ^ " ----- Mrictsthey 

>n abbrevia- 
alion cester 
ie place had 

not tftns- 
?r the eata- 
M, £*tere 
rail and of 
Irstai ttod- 
nd that of 
hen at Cre- 
te) that of 
e eleventh 
ed dioceses 
whieh town 
it has taken 
tee time the 
and he Was 
pomp, the 
ueen, both 
Phe present 
century, by 
exited, how- 
eath, in the 
in, in 1136, 
it necessary 
on the most 
by the next 
the time of 
(d in 1 306. 
etl without 
■ecorded till 

[he ehangts 

id by those 

n pursuance 

really the 

rtg. Quivil 

e wbo first 

the interior 

wans or trie ting those 

apposite With Which this 

Cot the bt repairs thus 

n, and w \ renovation 

of the whole the towers, 

Were not entirely compietea mi we preiacy »f Bishop 
Thomas de Brehtingham* Who presided over the see 
from 1870 till 1994. But the two orelatea. by whom 
the work had* durinj (Fee ru ally 

promoted* were Bis) bis sue- 

censor Bishop John by whom 

the ehoir Was completed about the vetfr 1*13* Was dis- 
tinguished fbi his mun Minder of 
Exeter College* Oxford tons Inn, 
and also of Hart Hall ii ring held 
the office of Lord treasi taptoytd 
f» embassies and othe state by 
Edward II., he continued steady to tne party of that 
unhappy prince throughout the troubles which agitated 
the close of his reign, and to which be fell a victim a 
few months before his royal master, tie was executed 
in Cheapside by the populace of London, along with 
his brother, Sir Richard Stapledon, on the 15th of 
October, 1326. 

Bishop Orandisson succeeded Stapledon, and pre- 
sided over the see till 1369. He is said by Leland to 
have vaulted the body of the cathedral, and it is pro- 
bable that the gorgepus west front was also his work. 
The antiquary John Hooker (otherwise called Vowel), 
in his * Description of Exeter/ written in 158^ says 
of this prelate, that " sequestering himself from ail idle 



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persons, in kept ne me** atari Mm than were aheo- 
lutely necessary, in order to compass the charge ef such 
mighty works j likewise assembling his whole clergy, 
he persuaded them to bequeath all their goods, &e*, to 
the building of the Mother church of the diocese ; and 
he also prevailed on sundry temporal men to. give of 
their store] as, namely, Hugh Courtney, Earl of 
Devon, from whom he got 900 marks." 

The Cathedral of Exeter is remarkable for its organ, 
its bells, and its ancient astronomical dock. The 
clock is in the north tower, and is said to have been the 
gift of Bishop Courtney, who occupied the see from 
1478 to 1487. Mr. Britton, however, in his * History 
of Exeter Cathedral, 1 has referred to some ancient 
authorities, from which it would appear that there was 
a famous clock here at least a hundred years before 
the time of Bishop Chichester. The present clock, 
besides the hour of the day, indicates the age of the 
moon, and represents the revolution of that luminary 
around the earth. Its face is seven feet in diameter. 
In the north tower is also the famous bell, called the 
Peter, the largest in England except Great Tom of 
Christ's Church, Oxford. The bell at Christ's Church 
weighs 17,000 lbs., and this is said to weigh 12,500. 
Unfortunately, the Exeter bell is now so hung that 
it cannot be rung. It, as well as the clock, is said 
to be the gift of Bishop Courtney ; but Mr. Britton, to 
whose work we are indebted for these particulars re- 
specting it, is of opinion that it is probably of still 
greater antiquity. The tradition is, that it was brought 
from the cathedral of Llandaff. Having been cracked 
on the 5th of November j 1611, it was recast in 1676. 
The organ is said to be the most powerful in Europe, 
except that at Haarlem, and even to that it is con-' 
sidered to be superior in sweetness of tone. It was 
built by an Enghah artist in 1665. 



THE GONDOLA. 

« Thsjls is a glorious eity in the tea ; 
The sea is in tfee broad, the narrow stvests* 
Kbbiag and flowing ; and tha salt see-weed 
Clings to tha marble of her palace*. 
No track of men, no footstep* to and fro, 
tead to her fate*. The path hea o'er tha ass, 
lariaible ; and from the land w% vent, 
Aa to a floating city,— -atesriiig in, 
And gliding up her atresia aa in a draass, 
8o smoothly, atlendy. — by many a dome, 
Moaque-hke, and many a stately portico, 
The statoea ranged alung an aaure sky— 
By many a pile in more than Eastern sotondour, 
Of old the residence of merchant kings/* 

Thus* in his * Italy*' Rogers speaks of Venkey--the 
city which poets, have so eloquently described in her 
prosperity* and so feelinsrhr mourned over in her fallen 
estate. 



It i» not* however* en* present intention to describe 
Venice ; but we have quoted these passages as suitably 
introducing an ecconjsit ojf the g o ndola , or b <4, employed 
in traversing the marine streets or canals it that city. 

The length of fceia bewtiml beat is awry thirty feet, 
and the breadth about f*t ; and it aiibj^ accommodation 
for mx paaseageca besides, the two rowers, Some* how- 
ever* are much. wsaBet, and asa rowed by one person. 
The form is very light and elegant. The gondola is ftat- 
bottomed, and its sides slope away considerably, par- 
ticularly towards the after part, which, when the boat is 
empty, rises high out of the water. The seats, which are 

E laced at a distance of something less than two- thirds the 
tngth of the boat from its head, have a tilt over them, 



with windows and curtains. TUtUU/whWiiti. 
light and elegant, and removable at pleasure, fe of 
frame-work, covered with blank oioth. ornament** with 
tufts of the same colour, Tha bead is furnished with 
a flat iron beak or prow* of tha form shown in the 
wood-cut, which is similar to what is man in tha rear** 
sentation of the ancient galleys; Una )s never painted, 
but kept highly polished : the stem baa a wooden beak* 
not so elevated as that at tha head. The scats usually 
have cushions covered with plush, and the floor is 
furnished with carpets. The gondolas of private per* 
sons, as well as those which are let for hire, are inva- 
riably painted black. Formerly the Venetians vied 
with each other in the splendour of their gondolas, but 
so much inconvenience was found to result from this 
rivalry that a sumptuary law was issued, many years 
since, prescribing the size, form, and colour, in which 
the gondola still appears. 

The black colour gives them a very sombre, funereal 
appearance, and their first effect on strangers is at 
variance with our notions of Venetian gaiety and ele- 
gance. Our sailors call them " floating coffins," 
'* queer craft,"— and, indeed, they have something of a 
hearse-like character about thenu When the black is 
allowed to become brown and rusty, as is now, owing 
to Venetian poverty, too often the case, they look par- 
ticularly shabby and still more dismal. In such a city 
as Venice, intersected in every part by canals, and 
where there are few parts where people can walk a 
hundred yards without coming to a high, steep bridge, 
built nearly always, not in inclined planes, but iu steps 
rising over an arch, carriages and nurses would be of 
no use. The gondola is the. sole equipage of the noble 
Venetian. In this he is carried on his visits, for his 
amusement, or to his business, and iu this a considerable 

Kof his time is passed. His head gondolier is to 
what the head coachman and the groom are to an 
English gentleman, and something more. When he 
wishes to go out, he does not order " the horses to be 
put to," but the gondola to be sot ready. As the fares 
are low, even the poorest neopte make frequent use of 
these boats, and on a saint s day, or other holiday, they 
are seen gliding in all directions, — their occupants 
sometimes conversing or listening to stories, more 
frequently playing at tarocce, a game at cards. . 

In rowing, the gondoliers stand on the extreme edge 
of the vessel: the master, or principal gondolier, on the 
right side, with his race towards the head of the boat, 
and his companion on the left side, behind the company. 
On the after part, where the back rower is placed, 
there is a flat piece added over the gunwale of the boat, 
en which he stand*. Thus placed, the gondottera seem, 
to strangers, in imminent danger of falling overboard. 
But this is an event which rarely happens They 
balance themselves with apparent ease, and even ele- 
gance, pushing their oars forward, and giving them, by 
the action of the wrfet, a turn in. the water, resembling 
what is called with u* * feathering." The oars » re 
made of a very light sort ef it; the blade is not bent 
aa hi the English oar, but more in the form of a paddle. 
They do not use rowlocks, but omasa? » eagle feted 
thowefl, of a crooked form, and about a foot long, 
against which they hoM the ear by pressure only. 
Previous to turning a corner, from ewe canal into 
another, the gondoliers have a pecufiar cry, rather 
musical and agreeable, designed to grte warning to 
gondolas whicjfc may he aptwoenhfaag ha an opposite 
direction. The vessel appears to glide with great 
rapidity; but whether the motion is more or less 
rapid than that of a Thames wherry, rowed by a pair 
of oars, it is difficult to ascertain, as the gondola is 
always employed in still water, while the wherry is rarely 
seen in motion but with the advantage or opposition of 
the tide. 



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The gondoliers were formerly ft very interesting portion 
of the Venetian population, and enjoyed a degree of 
consideration beyond that to which persons in a similar 
station of life receive among ourselves. They still are a 
civil and well-behaved body of men, and act as ciceroni 
to travellers in showing them the curiosities of Venice, 
and even go with them to the opera-house, and conduct 
them to their boxes. Formerly they made the city 
vocal ; for, in gliding through its canals, and at other 
times, they sang to one another, in alternate stanzas, 
passages chiefly from Tasso, translated into the Vene- 
tian dialect. The verses they sang were almost inva- 
riably taken from Tasso, and rarely from Ariosto or any 
other poet. The motives for this decided preference 
have been reasonably assigned by several writers to the 
circumstance of Tasso's * Epic ' relating to the wars of 
the Crusades, where the crescent of Mahomet was made 
to wax pale before the Christian cross, and to the 
antipathy arising from long warfare, both by land and 
sea, both in Europe and in Asia, that has existed 
between the Venetians and the Turks. Shakspeare's 
Othello will show, as well as any historical record could 
do, how violent was this feeling. To this may be added 
that the Venetians, even down to our own day, have 
continued an intimate intercourse with Syria, the 
Holy Land, Turkey, and all the Levant, and are thus 
the better prepared to enjoy Tasso's brilliant and beau- 
tiful pictures of the " Orient." 

The melody thus sung was Calculated for remote 
effect ; and when the gondoliers of distant vessels sung 
to each other in alternate verses, the sound, as it 
came " bv distance made more sweet," was sincrularlv 



said, in a note to the fourth Canto of ' CbJlde Harold,' 
" It suits particularly well with an idle solitary mariner 
lying at length in his vessel, at rest on one of these 
canals, waiting for his company or for a fare, the tire- 
someness of which situation is somewhat alleviated by 
the songs and poetical stories he has in memory. He 
often raises his voice as loud as he can, which extendi 
itself to a vast distance over the tranquil mirror ; and 
as all is still around, he is, as it were, in a solitude in 
the midst of a large and populous town. Here is no 
rattling of carriages, no noise of foot passengers: a 
silent gondola glides now and then by him, of which 
the splashings of the oars are scarcely to be heard. At 
a distance he hears another, perhaps utterly unknown 
to him. Melody and verse immediately attach the 
two strangers ; he becomes the responsive echo to the 
former, and exerts himself to be heard as he had heaid 
the other. By a tacit convention they alternate verse 
for verse : though the song should last the whole nignt 
through, they entertain themselves without fatigue, and 
the hearers, who are passing between the two, take part 
in the amusement." But this interesting practice has 
declined with the prosperity and independence of Venice. 
The lagoons are allowed to be choked, and to corrupt 
the air: the spirit of the people has departed: and 
although some old gondoliers remember the usual 
verses, and can execute the chant, it is never voluntarily 
undertaken, and now 

"In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more. 
And silent rows the songless gondolier ; 
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, 
alw 



And music meets not i 



Iwsys now the ear : 



• • Ths Ofiee of the Society for the Diffnsioo of Useful Knowledge is st 49, Ltncoln't-Ion Fields. 

LONDON i— CHARLES KNIGHT, S2. LUDQATK STREET. 

Printed bjr William Cm>we», Dnke Street, Lambeth. 



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March 31, to April 30, 1834. 



ST. PAULS CATHEDRAL. 



[North-West View of St. Paul's Cathedral.] 



In the Seventh Number of the * Penny Magazine ' we 
gave a sketch of the history of the successive churches 
which have occupied the spot on which our metropolitan 
Cathedral now stands. In the present Supplement, our 
object will be to point out what is most remarkable in 
the existing building, considered both in an architectural 
and an historical point of view. 

The cathedral which immediately preceded the present 
was, in several respects, a remarkable edifice. Some 
of its dimensions probably exceeded those of any other 
church in Christendom. Its length, from east to west, 
was 690 feet, and the spire over the great central tower 
had, before its destruction by an accidental fire in 1561, 
been 520 feet in height. Within a century after it 
had lost the last-mentioned striking ornament, the pile 
received another of a different character in the beautiful 
western portico, the work of the rich and fanciful genius 
of Inigo Jones. The breaking out of the civil wars, 
however, put a stop to the general restoration of which 

Vol. III. 



this was but the commencement ; and for more than 
ten years the cathedral went to decay as fast as neglect 
and ill-usage together could hasten it. 

Although on the return of the royal family and the 
old order of things, the deplorable condition of St. Paul's 
excited much public attention, it was not till towards the 
close of the year 1663 that active preparations began 
to be made for repairing it. The works were put under 
the direction of Sir John Denham the poet, who held the 
office of the King's Surveyor-General, for the duties of 
which, however, he was quite unqualified. The place 
had been given to him in his old age as a reward for 
his loyalty ; but fortunately the appointment of Wren 
as his assistant amply compensated, in so far as the 
public interest was concerned, for Sir John's de- 
ficiencies. But the removal of the private houses, 
shops, and other buildings which had been erected 
against the walls of the cathedral, was all that had 
been done when the memorable conflagration of the 3rd 

V 



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f ,. _ _ _ w . ^^ 

| other*. Reynolds, Bishop of Norwich, for instance, J any Greekor ItSmanbuilding as is ^k]^f t€^ M8P^ 



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and Waterloo Bridges ; but none of the under portion 
u« the building is visible from these points. The 
glimpse afforded by the opening into Cheap side, at the 
north-east angle of the churchyard, is too oblique, 
besides being extremely limited ; and the east end is 
so pressed upon and hidden by the buildings forming 
itoe opposite side of the street, as, unless it may be from 
the windows of these houses, to be nearly invisible from 
anv Doint whatever. 



pearance. The entablature over the principal entrance 
contains a representation of the miraculous conversion 
of St. Paul, by Francis Bird. Over the pediment are 
placed three statues ; that on the apex representing 
St. Paul, that to the north St. Peter, and that to the 
south St. James. The entablature of the northern 
portico presents a carving of the royal arms supported 
by angels, and over the south door is a Phoenix rising 
from the flames, with the word Reauream — I shall risa 



k'uwngr 01 di. raurt irom under the Dome n 



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Gabriel Cibber, the father of the more celebrated Colley, 
and also the sculptor of the two statues, of great merit, 
which formerly stood over the front gate of the Old 
Bethlehem, in Moorfields. Bird modelled the scrolls, 
ball and cross, for the lantern, and the pines for the 
towers. He also executed the statue of Queen Anne, 
with the statues of England, France, Ireland, and 
America, seated at her feet, before the west front of 
the church ; and for this group he received in all 11 SO/. 
Her majesty's nose was struck off by a lunatic nearly 
a century ago, and has never been restored. The 
chiselling on the exterior of the cathedral is already 
everywhere greatly defaced, partly owing to the smoke 
which has settled upon it, but more from the effects of 
the weather upon the freestone, which unfortunately is 
very ill adapted to resist the winds and rains of such a 
climate as ours. 

Before leaving the exterior of the cathedral, we 
ought, perhaps, to notice the iron balustrade, or railing, 
inclosing the portion of the churchyard immediately 
around the building, which is still used as a cemetery. 
It appears to have excited extraordinary admiration 
when it was first erected, although it will hardly 
be looked upon as anything very wonderful in the 
present day. It consists of between two and three 
thousand palisades, each five feet and a half in height, 
and cost above 11,0007. It was cast at Lamberhurst 
in Kent. Maitland, in his * History of London, 1 
describes this as " the most magnificent iron balustrade, 
perhaps, in the universe." The celebrated Paul's Cron y 
at which sermons were anciently delivered in the open 
air, and which is famous both in the ecclesiastical 
and the civil history of the country, stood in the nor- 
thern part of this inclosed area, a little to the east of 
the centre. It appears to have subsisted down to 
the commencement of the civil wars in the reign of 
Charles I. ; and the sermons preached at St. Paul's — 
for the maintenance of which, under that name, there 
are several ancient benefactions — are still called Paul's 
Cross Sermons, though now delivered in the choir of 
the cathedral. 

The door by which the public are now usually ad- 
mitted into the cathedral, both when it is open for the 
performance of divine service and at other times, is that 
of the north transept. The effect of this regulation is, 
that whatever of majesty and harmonious beauty there 
is in the plan and disposition of the interior is lost to 
the visiter on his first advance. But this is not all. 
Nearly the whole of the nave from the west end to the 
transept is railed off, so that visiters are completely shut 
out from the only part of the church from which its 
proportions can be seen to full advantage. A person, 
on the contrary, entering from the great western door, 
has before him the entire length of the nave, as far as 
the entrance to the choir, presenting an unbroken vista 
of nearly 340 feet, with so much of the choir as can be 
seen through the iron folding door at its termination. 
If the door of the choir be open, the prospect is ex- 
tended to the extremity of the building, a distance of 
500 feet ; and the spacious temple stands revealed in all 
its magnitude and grandeur. The parts of the building 
at the west end, which project on each side beyond the 
line of the nave, form, as has been already intimated, 
no part of the body of the church, the north tower 
being a belfry, and that to the south containing a stair- 
case, while beyond the former is the apartment called 
the MorrTing Chapel, and beyond the latter the Con- 
sistory Court. Both these rooms are separated from 
the nave by screens of wood. The nave is divided into 
three portions, a middle and two side aisles, by two 
rows of massive pillars, two of which on each hand are 
square, and the others oblong, in shape. In Wren's 
original design, the nave was without these divisions ; 
ana he is said to have felt so strongly the injury done 



by their introduction to the effect which he intended 
to produce, that he shed tears when compelled to admit 
them on the ground that such an arrangement was 
conceived to be essential to the character of a cathedral. 
According to one account, the point was carried against 
the representations of the architect chiefly through the 
influence of the Duke of York (afterwards James II.), 
whose object is supposed to have been the adaptation 
of the church to the forms of the catholic service. 
The transept is also divided into a central portion and 
side aisles by means of two immense oblong pillars, or 
rather piers, on each hand. 

While, notwithstanding its inferior dimensions, the 
external appearance of St. Paul's has been preferred by 
many to that of St. Peter's, it is admitted by all thai 
the interior of the English cathedral will bear no com- 
parison with that of the Roman. Both in its spacious- 
ness, and still more in the ornamental splendour that 
blazes from every side, the latter far surpasses the 
former. The upward view from under the dome of 
St. Peter's especially, from the vast height to which the 
eye is carried, as well as the glorious pictorial display 
with which it is filled, has been generally acknowledged 
to have no rival in the world. The corresponding spot 
in St. Paul's, however, is al^o that from which the 
surrounding scene assumes its most imposing aspect. 
There is extent enough to convey an impression of 
extraordinary magnificence ; and the dome, though not 
so elevated as that of St. Peter's, is still very lofty. 
The form of the concave, which approaches considerably 
nearer to that of a circle, — the height being equal to 
a diameter and a half, while in St. Peter's it is equal to 
two diameters, — has also been considered more beautiful 
than that of its rival. 

The cupola is lighted from the lantern over it. It is 
painted by Sir James Thornhill, the subjects being 
taken from the history of St. Paul. It was while at 
work on these pictures that Sir James is said to have 
made the narrow escape of which, probably, most of 
our readers have heard. Stepping backwards one day 
to observe the effect of what he had been doing, he had 
reached the edge of the scaffold, and would, by another 
step, have been precipitated over it, when a friend who 
happened to be with him snatched up a brush and 
began to bedaub the picture — an act which, instantly 
making the painter rush forward, in surprise and alarm, 
to prevent the threatened obliteration of his work, 
saved him from destruction. The paintings, which 
have much merit, are now unfortunately defaced in 
many places by the damp, which inattention to the 
regular ventilation of the church has allowed to act 
upon them. 

The screen of wrought iron which separates the choir 
from the nave is very elegant. Over this Che organ is 
placed. But the principal thing deserving of attention 
in the choir is the exquisite carving of the stalls, the 
work of the celebrated Grinling Gibbons. The altar 
is plain, and almost mean, a magnificent design which 
Wren furnished for this part of the cathedral never 
having been executed. Near the altar stands the 
bishop's throne, distinguished by the mitre with which 
it is surmounted. The pew in which his lordship sits 
on ordinary occasions is one of the stalls on the south 
side of the choir. Fronting it, on the opposite side, is 
the seat of the lord mayor. The dean's stall is under 
the organ gallery. The pulpit now stands towards the 
middle of the floor, having been brought forward from 
the spot where it was originally placed near the bishop's 
stall. The choral service is performed here twice every 
day, — at three quarters past nine in the morning, and 
at a quarter past three in the afternoon,— on which 
occasions, of course, the church is open to the public. 
Sermons are also preached by the dean and canons 
residentiary on Sundays and holidays, and every Wed- 



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nfesday and Friday daring Lent. Divine service is 
likewise perftrmed in the Mornmg C ha* pel every Week- 
day morning, at seven o'eiock Ita the summer and at 
eight in the whiter. The full establishment of the 
cathedral^ we nay here mention* consists of the follow- 
ing officers : i — the dean? id whorfi the supreme jurisdic- 
tion bekmgs ) the pret»htor, or ehaiirtter, whose office 
is now a sinecure; the chaitceHer* the treasurer; the 
five archdeacons of Ldndonj Middlesex, Essex, Col- 
cheater* and St; Albans ; thirty major canons, or pre- 
bendaries* four of whom are resident; twelve minor 
canons, and six vicars choral* besides the children of 
the chain Gee bf the vicars choral officiates as organist, 
and three of the minor earibns hold the places of sub- 
deaif, librarian* ami succentor, or tinder precentor. 

The object* in the interior bf St. Paul's, by which 
the attention of visitors is usually first attracted and 
longest detained, are the monumental sculptures erected 
in honour of various distinguished individuals. The 
several large spaces* bare bf all ornament, presented by 
the* walls and Massive piers* had long been felt to pro- 
duce a heavy effect; There is every reason, indeed, to 
believe that these vacant spaces were intended by Sir 
Christopher Wren to aetVe fbr the receptacles of statues 
or paintings* and that it was in this view he left them 
so unrelieved as they are by any architectural decoration. 
In 1778, after the Royal Academy had been some years 
established, Sir Joshua Reynolds* as president, made an 
offer to Bishop Newton* then dean* in the name of 
himself* Mrs. Kauffman, West, Cipriani* Barry, and 
Dance* to furnish gratis a series of pictures on scrip- 
tural subjects* to be placed in the cathedral. This 
liberal proposition is said to have been well received, 
both by the dean and chapter, and by the king ; but 
Archbishop Cornwallis and Dn Terrick, the bishop 
of the diocese* having opposed the scheme* it was 
abandoned. Sbme years afterwards, however, the 
enthusiastic ndmiratio& excited by the philanthropic 
exertions of the celebrated Howard led to an application 
being made 4 to the dean and chapter for liberty to erect 
some testimony of the public feeling in the metropolitan j 
cathedral. It was favourably received; but, after sub- 1 
acriptibns to a considerable amount bad been collected, , 
the determined opposition of the person whom it was | 
intended Ihits to honour made it necessary to relinquish 
the design; Qn Howard's death* however, very soon 
after* it was revived; and the late Mr. Bacon was 
commissioned to furnish a statue of the illustrious 
philanthropist for thirteen hundred guineas. This 
monument was opened for public inspection on the 
28rd of February* 1796 ; and soon after the statue of 
Dr. Johnson, by the same sculptor, was erected over 
against it. They occupy the corresponding corners of 
the two great piers on each hand of the avenue from 
the transept towards the chdir. 

This commencement has been followed up by the 
introduction of other monuments, from time to time, 
for the most part voted by parliament, in honour of 
distinguished naval and military officers, though there 
are a few also to persons eminent in the annals of 
literature and art. Besides that of Dr. Johnson, for 
instance, there are those of Sir William Jones, and Sir 
Joshua Reynolds. But in general, while civil eminence 
has been commemorated in Westminster Abbey, St. 
Paul's has been made a Pantheon for those who have 
immortalized themselves by their brilliant achievements 
in the defence of their country. Here are, among 
others, Elliot, the heroic defender of Gibraltar, and 
Howe, and Jervis, and Duncan, the victors of Brest, 
and Cape St. Vincent, and Camperdown ; and Nelson, 
and Collingwood, and Abercrbmbie, and Moore, and 
£icton. There are above forty monuments in all. 

Not much can be said in praise of the style of art in 
wbieh most of the monuments in St. haul's are executed. 



It is to be lamented that) with tew exeeptkms* we irate 
in these works* instead of a vivid and poetical tram te ii p t 
frdgi nature* almost in every instance only some b&rd- 
laboured, half intelligible* and totally ineffective* »ti* 
gorical invention. Those from the chftel of Chsmtre? 
afford almost the only exaniplfes of exeraeftion from this 
unfortunate taste. The moriunttnt* by this eminent 
artist* to Colonel Cadogaa, who was mortally wonhded 
at the battle of Victoria* and the tabid by the same to 
the memory of Major General Bowes* slain while head- 
ing his men at the storming of Salamanca* in both et 
which performances is represented with exquisite skill 
the living scene of strife and carnage elosing in victory, 
— a whole poem in a picture*- 1 — are by far the finest and 
most touching in the whole collection. Compared to 
these, the cold decorations with which most df the 
others are incumbered hardly affect the heart or the 
imagination more than do the flourishes of a writing 
master. There are several works of Flaxman's here, 
— among the rest a monument to the memory of Lord 
Nelson ; but even he has surrendered himself to the 
prevailing affectation* and although the statue of the 
hero of Trafalgar is characteristic and expressive, the 
miscellaneous assemblage of sea-gods, and lions, and 
Britannias, and sailor-boys, on the pedestal, is a mere 
chaos of splendid absurdities, and surely as insipid is 
effect as it is extravagant in conception. There is con- 
siderable truth and vigour* though of a something 
prosaic quality, in the statue of Johnson by the elder 
llacon ; and that of Lord Heathfield (General Elliot), 
and some others by Rossi* have also a masculine force 
and massiveness. The statue of Sir William Jones, by 
the younger Bacon, which has been sometimes praised, 
is unimaginative* almost below actual life, and certainly 
far below any thing deserving the name of art. 

After having viewed this part of the Cathedral, the 
visitor will be conducted, if he chooses, to the vaults, 
or crypt, underneath. The crypt under the eastern 
part of old St. Pauls, as we have already stated, was 
used for the performance of divine service, as the church 
of one of the city parishes — that of St. Faith. This 
was a common appropriation of the vaults of our old 
cathedrals. As one instance we may mention the place 
of worship long possessed by the French and Swiss 
Protestants of Canterbury, under the choir of that 
cathedral. The crypt of the cathedral of Glasgt >w, 
also, still is, or was lately, employed as a parish chuich, 
under the name* we believe, of the Laigh (that is, the 
Low) Kirk. The crypt under St. Pauls is now used 
oniy as a place of interment. Although the guide leads 
the way down to it with a lighted torch in his hand, 
there is no reason for alarm or any uncomfortable feel- 
ing ;— it is both weU-lighted, and apparently dry and 
airy. Among the persons interred here are Sir Chris- 
topher Wren, the painters Reynolds, Barry, Opie, West, 
and Lawrence ; the late John Rennie, the architect ; 
and Nelson, with Lord Collingwood on his one hand, 
and the late Earl of Northesk ou the other. The spot 
in which Wren's body rests is generally said to be that 
over which stood the high altar of the old church ;— 
although, if that be the case, the former building must 
have occupied a very different site from the present. 
Wren's grave is in the south aisle of the present crypt. 
It is covered with a flat stone, sunk tntd the pavement, 
with an inscription on it in English, merely stating that 
he died in 1723, in the 91st year of his age. Hung 
on the adjoining wall is a tablet containing the Latin 
epitaph, a copy of which is now placed much more 
appropriately over the entrance to the choir, ending 
with the striking words — u Lector, si monument ura 
requiris, circumspice ;" — Reader, if you would behold 
his monument, look around you. 

Much regret and indignation has been expressed od 
the subject of the alleged neglect which has left *h 



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of metal,'' says Malcolm, " is terrific, wher* ;n the colon- 
nade surrounding it ; but at a distance the ton! is very 
musical." The great bell of St. Paul's is only tolled on 
occasion of the deaths and funerals of members of the 
royal family, of the Bishop of London, and of the Lord 
Mayor. Malcolm, writing in 1803^ says that it had 
been silent since 179fi, when it had announced the 
death of the Duke of Cumberland, the brother of 
, George HI 



which has made the English people mischievous amidst 
works of art, — or, at any rate, which has brought upon 
them the accusation. We doubt if the English people 
are so. It is said thai one of the statues in West • 
minster Abbey was defaced by a Westminster scholar ; 
and that the said scholar, grown to the estate of author- 
ship, reproached the English rabble for violating the 
sanctuary of the dead in the instance of this very 
statue. * 



I 



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168 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. [An v.. SO, 1834 



[lnNnor oi St. Paul's, looking East.] 





*»* The Supplement for Mav will eonaitt of Hogarth's Industry and IdWnen, Platai 1, 3» 3, 4. 

V The Offlce of the Society fur the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge w At 69, Liieob'e laa Fields. 
LONDON ;— CHARLES KNIGHT, 22. LUDOATB STREET. 

Piiated by William Clowe* Duke Street, Lambeth. 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[May 8, 1834. 



THE WOLF. 



The essential characteristics of the common wolf may 
be thus described: — the tail straight; the hide of a 
greyish yellow, with a black oblique stripe on the fore- 
legs of those which are full grown, and the eyes oblique. 
The ancients had an opinion that the neck of the wolf 
was all of one solid bone ; but we need not say that 
this is one of the many opinions by which their igno- 
rance on points of very common knowledge is de- 
monstrated. The average height of the wolf is about 
two feet six inches before, and two feet four inches 
behind ; and the length of the body, from the tip of the 
muzzle to the beginning of the tail, three feet eight 
inches. The cubs of the wolf are born with the eyes 
shut; the female goes with young sixty-three days; 
in these respects exactly resembling the dog. The 
average duration of their life is from fifteen to twenty 
years. 

The great resemblance between the wolf and the 
dog has been frequently remarked ; an^ some na- 
turalists consider them of the same species. The polar 
voyagers state, that they had often much difficulty to 
distinguish the dogs of the Esquimaux from the wolves ; 
and yet, notwithstanding this external resemblance, 
there is a very essential difference in their characters, 
and the dog and the wolf are, in all circumstances, the 
natural foes of each other. Captain Parry, in* the 
Journal of his Second Voyage, says, " A flock of 
thirteen wolves, the first yet seen, crossed the ice in the 
bay from the direction of the huts, and passed near the 

Vol. UL 



ships. They so much resemble the Esquimaux dogs, 
that, had it not been for some doubts among the officers 
who had seen them, whether they were so or not, and 
the consequent fear of doing these poor people an 
irreparable injury, we might have killed most of them 
the same evening, for they came boldly to look for 
food within a few yards of the Fury, and remained 
there for some time." Again, he says in his Journal, 
a few days after, " These animals were so hungry and 
fearless as to take away some of the Esquimaux dogs in 
a snow-house near the Hecla's stern, though the men 
were at the time within a few yards of them." These 
dogs set up a fearful howl at the approach of a wolf; 
and, in speaking of the resemblance between the two, 
it should be mentioned that wolves have not the bark^ 
of a dog, but only a howl ; and, as the Esquimaux dog 
also does not bark, this, and the other circumstances of 
close resemblance, have led to the conclusion that this 
animal is no other than a domesticated wolf. 

The following passage in ' Sir A. de Capel Brake's 
Travels,' while it illustrates the enmity of the wolf to the 
dog, seems to show that the latter may be himself de- 
ceived by the resemblance to his own species. " I ob- 
served on setting out from SormjOle, the last post, that 
the peasant who drove my sledge was armed with a cut- 
lass; and, on inquiring the reason, was told that, the 
day preceding, while he was passing in his sledge the 
part of the forest we were then in, he had encountered a 
wolf, which was so daring that it actually sprung ovei 



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the hinder part of the sledge he was driving, and at- 
tempted to carry off a small dog which was sitting behind 
him. During my journey from Tornea to Stockholm, I 
heard every where of the ravages committed by wolves* 
not upon the human species or the cattle, but chiefly 
upon the peasants' dogs, considerable numbers of which 
had been devoured. I was told that these were the favour- 
ite prey of this animal ; and that, in order to seize upon 
them with the greater ease, it puts itself into a crouching 
posture, and begins to play several antic -tricks to attract 
the attention of the poor dog, which, caught by these 
seertthig demonstrations of friendship, and fancying 
it to be one of his own species, from the similarity, 
advances towards it to join in the gambols, and is 
carried off by its treacherous enemy. Several peasants 
that I conversed with mentioned having been eye- 
witnesses Of this circumstance." The animosity of the 
clog to the wolf does not seem inferior to that of the 
wolf to the dog. Associated in packs, and encouraged 
by rttettj dogs will chase the wolf With the most daring 
ardour, regardless of his greater physical strength. 
Our wood-cut represents a conflict of this nature, which 
was licit uncommon in parts of Europe during the 
middle ages. 

Wolves are cruel and cowardly animals, with a pecu- 
liarly sinister expression of countenance. They fly from 
man except when impelled by extreme hunger, when* they 
prowl by night in great droves through villages* and 
destroy any persons they meet. It is said of thein, as 
of several other beasts of prey* that when they have 
once obtained the taste of human blood, they give it the 
preference to any other. Very fearful accounts are on 
record of the ravages committed by wolves, when in 
hanl weather they associate in immense flocks. So 
lately as 1 760 such terror is said to haVe been excited 
sii France by the ravages of wolves, that public 
-prayers were offered for their destruction. The fol- 
lowing statement from Captain Franklin shows the 
extreme cunning of the wolves in the pursuit of a crea- 
ture of superior speed : — " We passed the remains of 
two red-deer, lying at the bases of perpendicular cliffs, 
from the summits of which they had probably been 
forced by wolves. These voracious animals, which are 
inferior in speed to the moose or red-deer, are said fre- 
quently to have recourse to this expedient, in places 
where extensive plains are bounded by precipitous 
cliffs. While the deer are quietly grazing, the wolves 
assemble in great numbers ; and, forming a crescent, 
creep slowly towards the herd, so as not to alarm them 
much at first ; but when they perceive that they have 
fairly feemmed in the unsuspecting creatures, and cut 
off their retreat across the plain, they move more 
quickly, and with hideous yells terrify their prey, and 
urge them to flight by the only open way, which is to- 
wards the precipice ; appearing to know that, when the 
herd is once at full speed, it is easily driven over the 
cliff— the rearmost urging on those that are before. 
The wolves then descend at their leisure and feast on 
^the mangled carcasses." 

The gentleness of wolves in confinement seldom con- 
tinues after they are full grown : they generally appear 
to acquire a fear instead of a love of man, which mani- 
fests itself in a morose and vindictive impatience. The 
cowardly ferocity of their natures is with difficulty re- 
strained by discipline : they are not to be trusted. And 
yet there are instances of wolves having been domesti- 
cated to such an extent as to exhibit the greatest 
attachment to man — as great as can be shown by a 
dog. M. F. Cuvier gives a very interesting account of 
ajtaine wolf which had all the. obedience towards and 
affection for his master, which the most sagacious and 

ffntfe of domestic dogs could possibly evince. He was 
rought , un in the same manner as a puppy, and conti- 
nued With his 



\ original owner till he was full grown. He 



was then presented to the Menagerie at Paris. For man j 
weeks he was quite disconsolate at the separation from 
his master, who had been obliged to travel ; he would 
Scarcely take any rood, and was indifferent to his keepers. 
At length he became attached to those about him, and 
he seemed to have forgotten his old affections. His 
master returned after an absence of eighteen months : 
the wolf heard his voice amidst the crowd in the gardens 
of the menagerie, and, being set at liberty, displayed 
the most violent joy. Again was he separated from his 
friend ; and again was his grief as extreme as on the 
first occasion. After three years' absence, his master 
once more returned. It was evening, and the wolfs 
den was shut up from any external observation ; yet the 
instant the man's voice was heard, the faithful animal 
set up the most anxious cries ; and the door of his cage 
being opened, he rushed towards his friend, — leaped 
upon his shoulders, — licked his face, — and threatened 
to bite his keepers when they attempted to separate 
them. When the man left him, he fell sick, and 
refused all food ; and from the time of his recovery, 
which was long very doubtful, it was always dangerous 
for, a stranger to approach him. He appeared as if he 
scorned any new friendships. 

The wolf still continues to infest the northern 
regions of Europe, and those countries where dense 
forests are not yet cleared. It was extirpated much 
earlier in England than in any other country of Europe. 
Ancient chronicles state that, in the tenth century, King 
Edgar attempted to extirpate these animals in England 
by commuting the punishments for certain crimes into 
the acceptance of a certain number of wolves' tongues 
from each criminal ; and, Ift Wates, by converting the 
tax of sold and silver into an annual tribute of 800 
wolves' heads. Irt after times their destruction was 
promoted by certain rewards* and some lands were held 
on condition of destroying the wolves which infested the 
parts of the kingdom in Which they were situated. In 
1281, these animals troubled several of the English 
counties, but after that period our records make no 
mention of them. The last welf known in Scotland 
was killed in 16*80, and in Ireland one was killed in 
1701. 

Most of the above facts are drawn from ( Menageries,' 
vol. i. 



MUSIC— (Continued.) 

We now come to our street music; and we beg 
leave to charge its goodness or badness, not upon the 
performers, but upon those who pay them, and who 
most clearly part with their money not to get rid of a 
nuisance, for that they all know would but bring it 
back again with interest, but because they have soma 
satisfaction in hearing that for which they pay. And 
we would by no means wish to be harsh towards the 
performers themselves, who are but the index of the 
public taste, to which if an organ out of tune is per- 
fectly satisfactory, the owner would be a mere spend- 
thrift if he paid his money for getting the pipes set in 
order. 

That noise, in all its varieties, is a pleasant thing to 
the public ear, is proved by the fact that all large towns 
have a regf lar supply of street musicians, who make 
their country tours in the summer like other gentle- 
men. In London it is no Exaggeration to say that 
every street, which is not a very public thoroughfare, 
has, during fine weather, a succession of musicians 
from morning till night. And in this system there 
must be considerable organization, (we mean no pun,) 
for we have observed that there Is seldom more thai 
one at a time, and that the performers seem to have 
their regular days for ire^uentihg each street. For six 
months together, oft dffe Jfcrttcuftf Aty of the week,— U 



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/an's pipe will ptatHro itf^Jf if) oi}f particular stfeet, to 
play the very same afrs, with the very fame flourishes, 
|nd the very same faults of tfme and tune. That the 
instruments which we have personified must find {h^ 1 * 
account in such a proceeding is obvious; for who will 
imagine that a fiddle or a flute would of its " own 
mere motion," as the king says in a charter, take such 

{ains to make itself sure tjiat A Street, or B — — 
•ane, should become well acquainted with * Di tanti 
Palpiti' or * Blue Bonnets over the Border'? 

In the various parts of the metropolis we observe 
great differences of quality in the tone and execution 
of the instruments aforesaid, which would sufficiently 
prove, if we did not know the fact before, that street 
musicians, like all other traders, find themselves obliged 
to suit the taste of their customers. In the west end of 
the town, we have the higher class of performance 
(comparatively speaking) : the harp, violoncello, and 
voice, are very often well managed, generally by 
foreigners. But as we approach the sun-rise, we find 
all gradations of badness, down to the organ— of which 
the only alleviation is that it has lost several of its 
pipes — and the miserable hurdy-gurdy, of vyhich the 
use is (and everything has its use) \o show that there 
may be something worse than the bag-pipes. As we 
are not writing to reform street abuses, we shall say no 
more on this subject, but proceed to point out some 
circumstances which corrolx>rate the opinions expressed 
in the last paper. 

No person with a cultivated ear will hesitate one 
moment to grant the assertion, that the greater part 
of our street music is out of tune. If the people, who 
pay for them, had any feeling of music, the hearing of 
such performances would be a state of pain, not of 
pleasure. We do not deny that they are pleased ; it is 
that very fact which enables us to make out the truth of 
our opinion. Nor are we inclined to place the evil high 
among those of our social condition ; there are certainly 
many worse things than a parrel-organ out of tune : all 
we say is this, — let mu^i^ of great or of little im- 
portance, still, in whatsoever degree it is desirable that 
a correct musical taste should be a part of our national 
character, and in whatsoever degree the contrary is a 
proof of want of refinement, in thai same degree is it 
necessary to amend our musical habits; for in that 
same degree does the noise in our streets prove that 
we are not a refined nation in such matters. 

But it may be said, the national ear is dull, and that 
is the end of it ; — how can we expect a people who 
have no ear for music to give themselves that which 
nature has refused them ? We deny that any people is 
musical by nature, in the sense above implied, that is, 
we deny that we have experience of any uncultivated 
people who have, while in their uncivilized state, con- 
structed any of those airs which they have retained with 
pleasure during their progress towards refinement. 
Let us take the instance of the Scotch and Irish, whose 
national airs are full of the highest pathos. With 
regard U> the former we have no proof that their airs 
were composed while they were in a rude state. It is 
well known that in Ireland the national condition, 
previous to the Conquest, was one of considerable 
civilization; — even their instrument, the harp, never 
was found in the hands of savages. Certainly, a 
stretched string has beeft^employed to make a note in 
many countries, but we rarely read of airs being played 
upon a harp, guitar, or audi aa instrument, in any, 
country which had not made some progress in the arts 
of life. It is said that the Goths had a harp, but we 
do not know whether it deserved the name. The Greeks 
paid much attention to the Jyce without any lasting 
resume. With regard to the Scotch music, we avail our- 
tflves of a neie <o Walter Sc^fr « J^rd of the Isles/ 



wty>, havip§ gjven pines and bugles to the army of 
Robert Bruce jn verse, seems to ddtibt in prose whether 
there was at that time* any martial music. He quotes 
Ritson, who a quotes Proissart's account of r each 
soldier in the host bearing a little horn, on which, at the 
onset, they would make such a horrible noise as if all 
the devils of hell had been amongst them. He observes 
that these horns are the only music mentioned by 
Barbour ; and concludes, that it must remain a mooted 
point, whether Brace's army were cheered by the sound 
'even of a solitary bag-pipe." We need hardly observe, 
that no air could be played upon a little horn unless It 
had keys. But though instruments were not invented, 
mig it not the voice have preceded thun? And has St 
not been asserted that all instruments are formed upon 
the voice as a model ? It has been so maintained ; but 
it has also been replied, on the other hand, that the 
voice has followed the instruments, and has never made 
any step in advance of them. It is said to be verified 
by experience, that no savage nation attempts to sing 
more than their drums or flutes teach them, — that in 
Owhyhee and Nootka Sound, their nasal flute has but 
three semitones, which are all that they use in their 
vocal scale. It is known that even a cultivated ear 
learns habits from instruments. Let any man take to 
an imperfect flute or oboe, and he will find, after a 
time, that his ear relishes the faults which it has been 
taught, and that the usual intervals appear erroneous. 
We have even heard an instance in which a performer 
of great skill imagined (probably from some peculiar 
habit in fingering) that the intervals in one key dif- 
fered in magnitude from those in another. 

But there is a ground on which we feel inclined to 
suspect that music is the native growth of very few 
countries indeed, perhaps only of one ; and thai, like 
arithmetic and geometry, it is not a necessary con- 
sequence of human association. There is a musical 
sCale which prevails extensively, and in different parts 
of the world. Its peculiarity is the absence of the 
fourth and seventh of the diatonic scale, giving, in the 
key of c, only the following notes : — 



i 



C D E G A C. 



The black keys of a piano furnish such a scale in the 
key of c sharp. It is the almost entire absence of these 
fourth and seventh notes which gives the peculiar 
character of Scotch music ; and which has caused it to 
be said that a cat running over the black keys of the 
piano, would play a Scotch tune. Hence it is that so 
many travellers have found music which bore a strong 
resemblance to the Scotch. This scale has been found 
in China, India, Java and the islands, Morocco, Kur- 
distan, Italy, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall. 
There may then be this alternative— if the defective 
scale be natural, our eountrymen cannot be incapable 
of musical cultivation, for they have acquired the arti- 
ficial fourth and seventh. If this scale be not natural, 
then we have a right to suspect that many nations have 
nothing in music but what they have borrowed, and 
that we ourselves may surely follow a process similar to 
that which has succeeded with others. 

We do not think we have said enough to establish 
any thing, but only to throw upon those who say we 
are not musical by nature the necessity of showing by 
fair presumption that there is any such thing as a 
nation which is so. 

To return to street music. — There is an unfortunate 
instrument, the playing upou which comes by nature. 
Of course we mean the barrel-organ. This yields per- 
haps not leas than two-fifths of the music which is 
actually heard by the majority of our countrymen in 
towns and cities, ket such an estimation surprise no 



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one. Say that one-seventh of the whole is heard at 
church or meeting, which is a very fair proportion. 
There remains then six-sevenths to be accounted for. 
Now take in all the orchestras, concerts, private pianos 
and harps, &c, and consider how small a part of the 
whole mass has any thing to do with these. Remem- 
ber, also, that whatever instrumental music exists 
among the lower orders is formed upon no better 
model than the street music, and may fairly be reckoned 
with it. Say then, that so much as two-sevenths of the 
whole is to be allowed for orchestras, &c, as above- 
mentioned : there remains four-sevenths for street music, 
Ac, — by much the major part of which is ground from 
barrels, so that our estimate of two-fiflhs for mere 
barrels is probably near the mark. 

In this national instrument, as we must begin to call 
it (for its use is comparatively rare on the Continent), 
there are two very great defects, which are of themselves 
enough to produce a pernicious effect, musically speak- 
ing, on those who hear it often. In the first place 
there is no expression whatsoever. Our unmusical 
readers will not know what this word means, but we 
can only tell them that it answers to feeling of the 
subject in reading or speaking. What is it that 
makes the difference between the muttering of an 
indictment in the mouth of the clerk of the court, 
and the emphatic charge of the judge, which keeps 
all eyes upon him, or turns them in a moment upon 
the jury or upon the prisoner, just as he pleases? 
It is just that difference which in music is called 
expression. It is what all men can feel when they 
hear it, but none can describe. It always succeeds : 
we have seen a street blocked up by the crowd 
which assembled, — in perfect silence, — round nothing 
more than a harp accompanied by a Pans pipe, 
both instruments admitting of expression ; and which, 
added to perfect tune, produced the unusual phenome • 
non just mentioned. But the barrel-organ, and all 
organs whatsoever, are deficient in this primary at- 
tribute of good music. So long as it shall form as 
large a part as it now does of what is commonly heard, 
there can be little hope of realizing any real feeling of 
the beautiful airs which are spoiled upon it. 

The mechanical part of the Apollonicon is a perfect or- 
chestra, except only in expression. The second defect of 
the organ consists in this, that owing, we sup|K)se, to 
the nature of the instrument, and in a manner depend- 
ing upon the size of the barrel and the limited number of 
pipes, many airs must be altered before they can be set. 
Thus chromatic music must be avoided, or adapted by 
the taste of some inferior head before it can parade the 
streets. And what is even worse, the barrel is some- 
thing like the bed of Procrustes, to the length of which 
the unfortunate traveller was cut short or lengthened 
out, according to his stature. The air must end in 
time to begin again, so that we frequently hear a ca- 
dence dictated, not by the composer, or even by the 
spirit of the composition, but by the number of inches, 
be they more or less, which must be filled up. Until 
the great masters can be brought to write by the foot, 
this cannot be avoided — at least in charity to the organ 
makers, we so presume. We know but little of the 
comparative anatomy of the noxious animal which so 
often makes us quicken our pace as we walk the street, 
but if our explanation be not correct, we leave upon 
the manufacturers the task of proving that they are not 
the most insensible of all the followers of the muses. 

We hold it perfectly hopeless to attempt any ame- 
lioration of this street system at present. So long as 
people can be found to be pleased with it and pay for 
it, it will last. But if by any means whatsoever the 
art could be so far encouraged among our labourers 
and mechanics, that only one-tenth of them should 
arrive at singing a common air from written music, 



we should not despair of any result, however dis- 
tant a state it might indicate from that which at pre- 
sent exists. We make no apology for insisting upon 
the matter as having some degree of importance. We 
address ourselves to those who like music enough to 
think that a fine opera is as pleasant a thing to the ear 
as a fine painting to the eye, and will not laugh at its 
being supposed that if a national taste for design be 
desirable, a national taste for music is also worth some 
cultivation. We do not know whether the cultivation 
of the fine arts is the cause or the effect of civilization : 
if the first, no more need be said in its favour ; if the 
second, it is worth ascertaining whether we cannot en- 
deavour to show the rest of Europe that we are as re- 
fined as our neighbours. 



Youth is the time in which modesty and enterprise ought 
chiefly to be found ; modesty suits well with inexperience, 
and enterprise with health and vigour and an extensive 
prospect of life. — Johnson. 

This is well to be weighed : that boldness is ever blind, 
for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences ; therefore it is 
ill in counsel, but good in execution ; for in counsel it is 
good to see dangers, aud in execution not to see them, except 
they be very great 

Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of 
wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment 
in discerning what is right ; as if it were a praise to know 
what must be said, and not what should be thought 

It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and 
extreme absurdities men do commit for want of a friend to 
tell them of them. The help of good counsel is th&c which 
setteth business straight-- Bacon. 



Chinese Barbers. — The barbers, in the towns of China, 
go about ringing bells to get customers. They carry with 
them a stool, a basin, a towel, and a pot containing Ore. 
When any person calls them, they run to him ; and, planting 
their stool in a convenient place in the street, shave the 
head, clean the ears, dress the eyebrows, and brush the 
shoulders ;— all for the value of little more than a halfpenny. 
They then ring the bell again, and start in pursuit of another 
customer. 

Manner of printing Cloth in the South Sea Islands.— 
At one place, in the house of a chief where we were hospi- 
tably entertained, we had an opportunity of witnessing the 
method of printing flowers and other ornamental figures on 
the native cloth. The design is neatly engraved upon the 
sides of thin pieces of bamboo, into the lines of which the 
colour is introduced by dipping them into cocoa-nut shells 
which contain the dye in a liquid state, and the superfluous 
matter is thrown on by smartly striking the bamboo upon 
the edges of these vessels. The pattern is then carefully 
transferred to the cloth by pressure of the hand ; after which, 
with the fibre of the cocoa-nut dipped in the colouring 
matter, any imperfections are supplied, and the whole deli- 
cately finished off. Four women were employed in this 
work. — Bennet and Tyermaris Voyages. 



Amiable trait in the Negro character. — A correspondent, 
in mentioning the birds of the Island of Grenada, remarks : 
— In the character of the Negro there is one trait that 
ought to make us blush,— the particular disgust which he 
entertains towards those who disturb or rob the birds while 
breeding. They are consequently never pursued with that 
wanton cruelty and unnatural pleasure which prompts the 
English boy to rob the mother bird of her eggs or her young ; 
and it would be deemed a crime of some magnitude to 

Elunder their nests and string the eggs to ornament chim- 
era. This amiable trait reminds us of the lines of Shea 
stone : — 

" For he ne'er would be true, she averr'd, 

Who could rob a uoor bird of its young ; 

And 1 loved her the more when I heard 

Such tenderness fail from her tongue." 

In return for this exemption from molestation, the birds 

exhibit so much confidence in man, that they often build 

their nests in the houses and rooms of the Negroes. 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 

CEMETERIES. 



Mi 



f 



nations are in no respect more strikingly exhibited than 
in their different methods of disposing of the bodies of 
jt,he dead. All nations do something towards their 
6pee<ly destruction or removal. The mode of effecting 



thrown over precipices, or abandoned in the deserts, 
woods, or ditches, to the hunger of wild beasts and vul- 
tures ; and, in others, they are consigned to the rivers 
or the seas, and become the prey of fishes. In the 



this is varied by the peculiar manners or prejudices of [ East Indies they are dried by fire, and then enveloped 

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in cloths and deposited in the earth. In other part* of 
the same country^ the fire is suffered to consume the 
corpse altogether. The Parses* have two cemeteries, 
one white and the other black ; in the one they bury 
those who have lived in the constant practice of virtue, 
and consign to the other those whose life has not been 
without reproach. 

The various practices of the natives of America 
would alone form a very interesting enumeration. We 
can only mention the following. The Arraquea, who 
inhabit the south of the Orinoco, suspend the corpse in 
its cabin until time has consumed the flesh ; they then 
reduce the bones to a powder, which they mingle with 
their drink; or they bum the body, and make the 
same use of the ashes. The A bi pones of South Ame- 
rica generally inter the dead under the shade of a ( 
and when a cnief or warrior dies, they kill his horse 
the grave. After a time the remains are exhumed, 
conveyed to a place more secret and distant than 
first. Some tribes make skeletons of all the dead, 

place them, in a sitting posture, clothed with robes ami i wrgp, ruuuued stones, so that it is 
feathers, in the cemetery, which is opened ever? year. I coffin with ft convex lid ; but, in some 
and the skeletons cleansed anc 
tribes of the American conti 
desire that their own bones, 
should rest in the land of 
nomade tribes of South Amei 
miles from their proper boi 
number happens to die, they 
leton, which they place on 
deceased, and carry it with I 
place of his family, however < 
that the different tribes are 
triets, chiefly by the circura 
their fathers are buried ther 
been much struck by readin 
chief indicated his aversion 1 
of territory to the white mar 
say unto the bones of our ft 
another land ? " In many t 
ments of the whiie men driv 
domains, they exhum* and U 
of their ancestors and friends. 
In early times the Assyrian* 
the dead with wax previous t 
tians held the consoling doct 
the soul, — or rather connect 
duration of the body, which 
and preserved with great car< 
catacombs devoted to this pur 

In all these different modes ui yapnrjtmg respect tor 
the departed, the principle appears to be the same, and 
may be traced in the most ancient institutions. In 
periods the most remote, cemeteries are found to have 
been set apart by the laws, and sanctioned by religion. 
The Jews had their funeral-fields. Their first care on 
arriving in a new country, was to select a spot for their 
sepulchres. Each city hid its public cemetery without 
the walls. That of Jerusalem was in the valley of 
Cedron ; and, not far from that of the Pharisees, was a 
distinct one for strangers. The Greeks, before they 
adopted the Phrygian custom of burning the dead, 
interred them in the fields, and afterwards continued to 
make use of cemeteries, where they deposited the urns 
which enclosed the ashes of the dead. We may remark 
that the wholesome custom of depositing the dead at 
some distance from the abodes of the living prevails 
among ail people except those of Christendom. They 
only, the most enlightened, have been unable, until of 
late, to perceive the evils of the opposite practice. This 
is a subjec* of serious importance and of much inter 
tfesk tp winch we shall return in a future Number. In 
the meantime we shall proceed to describe the ceme- 
tato of Urn Turks, 



Our wood-cut represents a very fine specimen of the 

superior class of Turkish cemeteries, and is one of 
several appropriated at Cairo, in Egypt, to the inter- 
ment gf opulent families. They are most of them, like 
this, remarkable for their magnificence, if not for then 
taste, of which the engraving will better enable the 
reader to judge than any written description. It 
may suffice to state, that the profuse display of sculp- 
tured marble, gilding, and brilliant colours, combine to 
strike very forcibly a stranger when he first enters the 
gates. The pillars are usually charged with Arabic 
inscriptions; and the interior of the cupolas are 
ornamented with sculptures in relief. The grata 
are in all cases constructed and ornamented on much 
the same principle, independently of the enriched su- 
which appears in the sepulchres of the 
I the opulent. We may therefore describe 
lilt we reserve for a future Number some 
ie more public burial-grounds in which 
ear. The grave is usually covered with 

not unlike a 
parts, this is 
rs, having on 
I intensions of 
all stones are 
aper towards 
lounted by a 
usually wore, 
he occupied 
ase who are 
>st every pro- 
e head-dress. 
b always flat, 
sf, the letters 
painted over 
s of reputed 
i black on a 
our of Ma- 
who died in 
1 to be in- 
cite ground. 
»dges of the 
ally painted 
rith gilding, 
these stones 
lie painting 
clusters of 
te particular 
Among the 
capitation by 
1 1 15? »mt*u« urqer n» cominemoraiea oy an attempt to 
represent the deceased, in painting or low relief, with 
his bead under his right arm. Christians, in indicating 
the same fact, are obliged to place the head between 
the legs. The Moslems carefully keep up, even after 
death, the paltry external distinctions between them- 
selves and others which they so carefully assert during 
lifjjs, None but Turks are allowed to have the cypress 
ju their cemeteries. Christians may plant eny other 
trees ; but the Jews are allowed none. Again, Chris- 
tians ere not allowed to have perpendicular grave- 
stones, but they may and do raise decent oblong masses 
of masonry to support the inscribed horizontal slab, 
which the Jews are obligeg* to lay on the ground. 



THE WW OF THJE ROYAL GEORGE. 

We are enabled, through the kindness of a cor respon- 
dent, to present pur readers with an extremely curious 
and interesting paper,— a Narrative of the Loss of the 
Royal Qeorge] bjf Mr. James Ingram, who was on 
board her af the time of this fearful calamity. Our 
correspondent says, " Mr. Ingram is a very respectable 
and intelligent man, who lives and has lived lor many 



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175 



years at Woodford, a village exactly midway between 
Gloucester and Bristol. *tfhis statement is given exactly 
in his own words* except that I occasionally asked a 
question where explanation appeared to be necessary." 
1*he Royal George was a ship of one hundred guns. 
Originally her guns had been all brass, but when she 
was docked at Plymouth, either in the spring of 1782 
or the year before, the brass forty-two pounders on her 
lower gun-deck were taken out of her as being too 
heavy, and iron thirty-two pounders put there in their 
stead : so that after that she carried brass twenty-four 
pounders on her main-deck, quarter-deck, and poop, 
brass thirty- two pounders on her middle-deck, and iron 
thirty-two pounders on her lower-deck. She did not 
carry any carronades. She measured sixty-six feet 
from the kelson to the taffrail ; and, being a flag-ship, 
her lanterns were so big, that the men used to go into 
them to clean them. 

In August, 1782, the Royal George had come to Spit- 
head. She was in a very complete state, with hardly 
any leakage, so that there was no occasion for the 
pumps to be touched oftener than once in every three 
or four days. By the 19th of August she had got six 
months* provision on board, ana .also many tons of 
$hot. The ship had her gallants up, the blue flag 
of Admiral Kempenfelt was flying at the mizen, and 
the ensign was hoisted on the ensign-staff, — and she 
was in about two days to have sailed to join the grand 
fleet in the Mediterranean. It was ascertained that the 
water-cock must be taken out and a new one put in. 
The water-cock is something like the tap of a barrel, — 
it is in the hold of the ship on the starboard side, and 
at that part of the ship called the well. By turning a 
thing which is inside the ship, the sea-water is let into 
a cistern in the hold, and it is from that pumped up to 
wash the decks. In some ships the water is drawn up 
the side in buckets, and there is no water-cock. To 
get out the old water-cock it was necessary to make the 
ship heel so much on her larboard side as to raise the 
outside of this water-cock above water. This was done 
at about 8 o'clock on the morning of the 19th of August. 
To do it the whole of the guns on the larboard side 
were run out as far as they would go, quite to the 
breasts of the guns, and the starboard guns drawn in a 
midship and secured by tackles, two to every gun, one 
on each side the gun. This brought the water nearly 
on a level with the port- holes of the larboard side of 
the lower gun-deck. The men were working at this 
water-cock on the outside of the ship for near an hour, 
the ship remaining all on one side as I have stated. 

At about 9 o'clock a.m., or rather before, we had 
just finished our breakfast, and the last lighter, with 
rum on board, had come alongside : this vessel was a 
sloop of about fifty tons, and belonged to three brothers^ 
who used her to carry things on board the men-of-war. 
She was lashed to the larboard side of the Royal George, 
and we were piped to clear the lighter and get the rum 
out of her, and stow it in the hold of the Royal George. 
I was in the waist of our ship, on the larboard side, 
bearing the rum-casks over, as some men of the Royal 
George were aboard the sloop to sling them. 

At first no danger Was apprehended from the ship 
being on one side* although the water kept dashing m 
at the port-holes at every Wave j and there being aiice 
in the lower part of the ship* which were disturbed by 
the water which dashed in, they were hunted in the 
water by the men, and there had been a rare game 
going on. However, by about 9 o'clock the additional 
quantity of rum on board the ship, and also the quantity 
of sea-water which had dashed in through the port- 
holes, brought the larboard port^hofes of the lower gun- 
deck faear.y ieVfcl with the sea. 

As soon as that was the case, the carpenter went on 
the quarter-deck to the lieutenant of the watch, to ask 



tiim to give orders to right ship, as the ship could not 
bear It. However, the lieutenant made him a Very 
short answer, and the carpenter then went below. The 
captain's name was Wagnorn. He Was on board, but 
where he was 1 do not know ;— however, captains, if 
anything is to be done when the ship is in harbour, 
seldom interfere, but leave it all to the officer of the 
watch. The lieutenant was, if I remember right, the 
third lieutenant ; he had not joined us long ; his name 
I do not recollect ; he was a good-sized man, between 
thirty and forty years of age. The men called him 
" Jib-and-Foresail Jack," for, if he had the watch m 
the night, he Would be always bothering the men to 
alter the sails, and it was " Up jib " and " down jib," 
and " up foresail " and " down foresail," every minute. 
However, the men considered him more of a trouble- 
some officer than a good one ; and, from a habit he 
had of moving his fingers about when walking the 
quarter-deck, the men said he was ah organ-player 
from London, but I have no reason to know that that 
was the case. The admiral was either in his cabin or in 
his steerage, I do not know which ; and the barber, who 
had been to shave him, had just left. The admiral 
was a man upwards of seventy years of age ; he was 
a thin tall man, who stooped a good deal. 

As I have already stated, the carpenter left the 
quarter-deck and went below. In a very short time he 
came up again, and asked the lieutenant of the watch 
to right ship, and said again that the ship could not 
bear it ; but the lieutenant replied, " t) — e, sir, if you 
can manage the ship better than I can, you had better 
take the command. Myself and a good many more 
were at the waist of the ship and at the gangways, and 
heard what passed, as we knew the danger, and began 
to feel aggrieved, for there were some capital seamen 
aboard, who knew what they were about quite as well 
or better than the officers. 

In a very short time, in a minute or two I should 
think, the lieutenant ordered the drummer to be called 
to beat to right ship. The drummer was called in a 
moment, and the ship was then just beginning to sink. 
t jumped off the gangway as soon as the drummer was 
called. There was no time for him to beat his drum, 
and I don't know that he even had time to get it. I ran 
down to my station, and, by the time I had got there, 
the men were tumbling down the hatchways one over 
another to get to their stations as quick as possible to 
right ship. My station was at the third gun from the 
head of the ship on the starboard side of the lower gun- 
deck, close by where the cable passes, indeed it was 
just abaft the bight of the cable, t said to the lieu- 
tenant of our gun, whose name was Carrell, for every 
gun has a captain and lieutenant (though they are only 
sailors), " Let us try to bouse our gun out without 
waiting for the drum, as it will help to right ship." We 
pushed the gun, but it ran back upon us, and we could 
not start him. The water then rushed in at nearly all 
the port-holes of the larboard side of the lower gun- 
deck, attd I directly said to Carrell, " Ned, lay hold of 
the ring-bolt and jump out at the port-hole ; the ship 
is sinking, and we shall be all drowned." He laid hold 
of the ring-bolt, and jumped out at the port-hole into 
the sea : I believe he Was drowned, for I never saw 
bim afterwards. I immediately got out at the same 
port-hole, which was the third from the head of the 
ship on the starboard side of the lower gun-deck, and 
when I had done so* I saw the port-hole as full of 
beads as it could cram, all trying to get out. I caught 
hold of the beat bower-anehor, which was just above me, 
to jprevent falling back again into the port-hole, and 
ntzea bold of a woman who was trying to get out at 
&at same port-hole, — t dragged Iter out* The ship 
was ftdl of Jews, women, and people selling all sorts of 
things. 1 threw the woman from me,— and saw all the. 



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heads drop back again in at the port-hole, for the ship 
had got so much on her larboard side, that the star- 
board port-holes were as upright as if the men had 
tried to get out of the top of a chimney with nothing 
for their legs and feet to act upon. I threw the woman 
from me, and just after that moment the air that was 
between decks drafted out at the port- holes very swiftly. 
It was quite a huff of wind, and it blew my hat off, 
for I had all my clothes on, including my hat. The 
ship then sunk in a moment. I tried to swim, but I 
could not swim a morsel, although I plunged as hard 
as I could both hands and feet. The sinking of the 
ship drew me down so, — indeed I think I must have 
gone down within a yard as low as the ship did. When 
the ship touched the bottom, the water boiled up a great 
deal, and then I felt that I could swim, and began to rise. 

When I was about half way up to the top of the 
water, I put my right hand on the head of a man that 
was nearly exhausted. He wore long hair, as many of 
the men at that time did ; he tried to grapple me, and he 
put his four fingers into my right shoe alongside the 
outer edge of my foot. I succeeded in kicking my shoe 
off, and, putting my hand on his shoulder, I shoved 
him away, — I then rose to the surface of the water. 

At the time the ship was sinking, there was a barrel 
of tar on the starboard side of her deck, and that had 
rolled to the larboard and staved as the ship went down, 
and when I rose to the top of the water the tar was 
floating like fat on the top of a boiler. I got the tar 
about my hair and face, but I struck it away as well as 
I could, and when my head came above water I heard 
the cannon ashore firing for distress. I looked about 
me, and at the distance of eight or ten yards from me 
I saw the main topsail halyard block above water ; — 
the water was about thirteen fathoms deep, and at that 
time the tide was coming in. I swam to the main top- 
sail halyard block, got on it, and sat upon it, and there 
I rode. The fore, main, and mizen tops were all above 
water, as were a part of the bowsprit and part of the 
ensign-staff, with the ensign upon it. 

In going down, the main yard of the Royal George 
caught the boom of the rum-lighter and sunk her, and 
there is no doubt that this made the Royal George 
more upright in the water when sunk than she other- 
wise would have been, as she did not lie much more 
on her beam ends than small vessels often do when 
left dry on a bank of.mud. 

When I got on the main topsail halyard block I saw 
the admirals baker in the shrouds of the mizen- top- 
mast, and directly after that the woman whom I had 
pulled out of the port-hole came rolling by : I said to 
the baker, who was an Irishman named Robert Cleary, 
" Bob, reach out your hand and catch hold of that 
woman; — that is a woman I pulled out at the port- 
hole. I dare say she is not dead." He said " I dare 
say she is dead enough ; it is of no use to catch hold of 
her." I replied, " I dare say she is not dead." He caught 
hold of the woman and hung her head over one of the 
ratlins of the mizen shrouds, and there she hung by her 
chin, which was hitched over the ratlin, but a surf 
came and knocked her backwards, and away she went 
rolling over and over. A captain of a frigate which 
was lying at Spithead came up in a boat as fast as he 
could. I dashed out my left hand in a direction 
towards the woman as a sign to him. He saw it, and 
saw the woman. His men left off rowing, and they 
pulled the woman aboard their boat and laid her on one 
of the thwarts. The captain of the frigate called out 
to me, " My man, I must take care of those that are 
in more danger than you." I said " I am safely 
moored now, Sir." There was a seaman named Hibbs 
hanging by his two hands from the main-stay; his 
name was Abel Hibbs, but he was called Monny, and 
M be hung from the main-stay the sea washed over him 



every now and then as much as a yard deep over b 
head, and when he saw it coming he roared out : how- 
ever, he was but a fool for that, for if he had kept hin. 
self quiet he would not have wasted his strength, and 
would have been able to take the chance of holding ob 
so much the longer. The captain of the frigate had 
his boat rowed to the main-stay, but they got the staj 
over part of the head of the boat and were in great 
danger before they got Hibbs on board. The captain 
of the frigate then got all the men that were in the dif- 
ferent parts of the rigging, including myself and the 
baker, into his boat and took us on board the Victory, 
where the dectors recovered the woman, but she was 
very ill for three or four days. On board the Victory 
I saw the body of the carpenter, lying on the hearth 
before the galley fire ; some women were trying to 
recover him, but he was quite dead. 

The captain of the Royal George, who could Dot 
swim, was picked up and saved by one of our seamen. 
The lieutenant of the watch, I believe, was drowned 
The number of persons who lost their lives I cannot 
state with any degree of accuracy, because of there 
being so many Jews, women, and other persons on 
board who did not belong to the ship. The comple- 
ment of the ship was nominally 1000 men, but it was 
not full. Some were ashore, and sixty marines had 
gone ashore that morning. 

The government allowed 5/. each to the seamen who 
were on board, and not drowned, for the loss of their 
things. I saw the list, and there were only seventy-five. 
A vast number of the best of the men were in the hold 
stowing away the rum-casks: they must all hare 
perished, and so must many of the men who were 
slinging the casks in the sloop. Two of the three 
brothers belonging to the sloop perished, and the other 
was saved. I have no doubt that the men caught hold 
of each other, forty or fifty together, and drowned one 
another — those who could not swim catching hold of 
those who could ; and there is also little doubt that as 
many got into the launch as could cram into her, hoping 
to save themselves in that way, and went down in her 
all together. 

In a few days after the Royal George sunk, bodies 
would come up, thirty or forty nearly at a time. A 
body would rise, and come up so suddenly as to frighten 
any one. The watermen, there is no doubt, made a 
good thing of it : they took from the .bodies of the men 
their buckles, money, and watches, and then made fast 
a rope to their heels and towed them to land. 

The water- cock ought to have been put Ho rights 
before the immense quantity of shot was put on board ; 
b>.t if the lieutenant of the watch had given the order 
to right ship a couple of minutes earlier, when the 
carpenter first spoke to him, nothing amiss would have 
happened ; as three or four men at each tackle of the 
starboard guns would very soon have boused the guns 
all our, and have righted the ship. At the time this 
happened, the Royal George was anchored by two 
anchors from the head. The wind was rather from the 
north-west, — not much of it,^-only a bit of a breeze ; 
and there was no sudden gust or puff of wind which 
made her heel just before she sunk ; it was the weight 
of metal and the water which had dashed in through 
the port-holes which sunk her, and not the effect of the 
wind upon her. Indeed I do not recollect that she had 
even what is called a stitch of canvass, to keep her head 
steady as she lay at anchor. 

I am now seventy-five years of age, and was about 
twenty-four when this happened. 



V The OfiM of the Society for the Diffiwion of Useful Kaowledft Is «t 
69, Lincoln's Ion Fields. 

LONDON t-CHARLES KNIGHT. 28, LUDOATB STREET. 
Printed by William Clowe* Dutoi Strott, Tjfiboth 



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jPa«*BU*a is a town which was formerly the capital of 
the mountainous and woody district of Brisgau, and 
now the chief place of the circle of Treisam in the 
grand-duchy of Baden. It if situated oil the right 
bank of the river Treisam, at the foot of a mountain, at 
the entrance of the Black Forest by the great road 
touting from the Rhine. The town is not of high 
antiquity. It was originally a village occupied by the 
workmen in the neighbouring mines, the produce 
of which furnished the means tor the foundation of the 
city and the erection of the churches and monasteries 
by which it is still adorned. As a city, it was founded 
in the year 1 120, by Berchtold III., Duke of Zaringen, 
from whose descendants it passed to the counts of Fur- 
stenberg, with whom it had many disputes on account 
of its privileges. Much bad feeling was in consequence 
engendered between the parties, and blood was shed in 
the quarrel; but, at last, Count Egon was induced (in 
the year 1 386) to come to an arrangement, by which, for 
the consideration of 20,000 marks of silver, he conceded 
to the town the freedom it desired, and transferred his 
reserved rights, as we understand this rather compli- 
cated transaction, to his cousin the Prince of Austria, 
by whom the above sum was advanced. The town 
was thenceforth called Freiburg or Free-town. In 
the course of its history, we learn that it was strongly 
fortified, and stood repeated sieges before 1744, when 
it was taken and dismantled by the French, ft was 
again taken by them in 1796 ; and was ultimately, with 
the district of Brisgau, ceded to Baden by Austria, at 
the peace of Presburg in 1805. 

Freiburg is described as a very lively and open city. 
The streets are wide, well paved, and traversed by 
streams of clear water ; the houses are good ; and the 
town is well furnished with fountains, hotels, and public 
buildings. The population is at present about 10,000. 
The principal objects of industry are the manufacture 
of cloths, tobacco, coffee, paper, seulkig-wax, red mo- 
rocco leather, and watches ; there are also some fbun- 
(leries of bells. The commerce of the place is very 
inconsiderable. Freiburg contains two public places, 
or markets; two Catholic and two Protestant churches; 
three convents; two hospitals, civil and military, be- 
sides a foundling hospital ; a public office for the loan 
of money on goods ; one prison ; and a house of correc- 
tion. From 1456 this town has possessed a university 
of much celebrity, with which is connected a fine 
library, a collection of philosophical and mathematical 
instruments, a botanic garden, a theatre of anatomy, 
where the means of clinical instruction in medicine 
and surgery are afforded. This university boasts 
some eminent men among its professors, and, not- 
withstanding the disadvantage of being near Tu- 
bingen, it had 600 students in 1625, and this number 
has since been much increased. Such an establishment 
is highly creditable to so small a country as Baden, 
which also contains the university of Heidelberg. 
Freiburg has likewise a gymnasium, a normal school, 
and a museum ; and a society has lately been formed, 
the object of which is to promote the study of statistics 
and of antiquities, and to preserve the monuments and 
objects of art which the country contains. Upon a 
mountain, called SchOnberg, in the neighbourhood of 
the town, has been discovered a large number of tombs 
containing arms and trinkets, which have the appear- 
ance of being of very remote antiquity. 

Toe Minster of Freiburg, which is represented in 
our wood-cut, is a very magnificent structure. The 
tower is fNlfti admired as one of the finest and moat 
complete Qottie steeples extant. It is no Was remark- 
able £pr its height than for its beautiful figure and 
fine Wflrtotnshrp^the structure 
datiaa |0 the summit composed 
sculptured stones. Its elevation is variously siatea, 



some accounts representing it to be 513 feet, — which is 
19 feet higher than that of Strasburg. We have not 
been able to learn (he precise date of its erection. 



GLASS. 

T« ■ period of the invention of glass is quite unknown. 
The usual story of its origin is taken from Pliny, who 
relates that some merchants, who were driven by a 
storm to the coast of Phoenicia, near the river Belus, 
made a large fire on the sand to dress their food, 
usiug as fuel some plants that grew near: whea an 
imperfect glass was formed by the melting together 
of the sand and ashes. This production was acciden- 
tally picked up by a Tyrian merchant, who, from its 
beauty and probable utility, was led to investigate its 
origin; and who, after many attempts, succeeded in 
its manufacture. The legend most probably origi- 
nated in the circumstance that glass was very anciently 
made at Tyre, and tliat the sand on the sea-hhore in 
the immediate neighbourhood of the Belus is very white 
and crystalline, and well adapted to glass-making. It 
is certainly probable that an accidental vitrification 
might give rise to the discovery ; but that was much 
more likely to take place in some operation requiring u 
great fire than by dressing food on the open sand. 

Although the most ancient manufactures of glass en 
record were at Tyre, it is certain tha& the art « as 
known to the Egyptians. Small pieces of blue glass, 
resembling turquoise, have bees recently discovered iii 
ancient tombs at Thebes, which were probably used in 
glazing the earthenware beads often found adorning 
mummies, and which have been erroneously cited as 
made of glass. 

In far later times than any to which the tombs 
of Thebes can be referred, glass was made at Alex- 
andria, and was supplied from that city to the Romans 
at least as late as the reign of Hadrian. The ma- 
nufacture had been introduced at Home, where the 
glass-makers had a particular street assigned to them. 
There can be little doubt that the art made some pro- 
gress there, although we may reasonably doubt the 
story of malleable glass, for the invention of which 
Tiberius is said to have rewarded an artist with death. 
Its principal use was at that time in the making of 
bottles and ornamental vases, in which the skill of the 
workman appears to have been very great, as may be 
seen in specimens at the British Museum, though the 
" metal," as the mass of glass is called by the trade, is 
usually thick and coloured. We have no testimony that 
it was used in glazing windows previous to that of 
Lactantius, in the beginning of the fourth century, who 
compared a penetrating mind to one looking through a 
glass window. 

The art is said to have been known to the ancient 
Britons before the coming of the Romans ; — the supposed 
Druid ical rings occasionally picked up, and believed to 
be a source or token of good luck to the finder, have 
been often mentioned ; and, if genuine, they afford a 
proof that the art must have made considerable progress 
among the ancient inhabitants of our island. The Ro- 
mans may have added some improvements during their 
long residence here, but the arrival of the Saxons 
destroyed this and almost every other mark of civiliza- 
tion in Britain. About two centuries after this event, 
glass was again imported as an ornament to churches 
and other religious establishments* though the manu- 
facture was not introduced until after the lapse of near 
a thousand years. The introduction among the Saxons 
is placed by Bade in the year 674, and its use was at 
first wholly confined to churches and religious edifices ; 
nor was it generally employed in windows of private 
iweliings until long after the Norman Conquest. Spe- 
cimens of Saxon glass may be seen in Westminster 



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Abbey, cemented into flte teaib of Edward the Con- 
fMfor : they are small square or diamond-shaped piece*, 

a more tlian an inch in length, and lined with gold 
, Similar ornaments were seen in a tomb discovered 
in making reparations to the eathedral of Rochester 
some years ago, though of rather later date. 

During these early times, the manufacture appears 
to have been confined to Italy er Germany. Venice 
became particularly celebrated for the beauty of its 
material and the skill of its workmen ; — as early as 
the thirteenth century, its manufactories supplied the 
greatest part of the glass used in Europe ; and speci- 
mens of the skill of their artists are yet in existence, 
composed of various coloured glasses fused together, 
enclosed in a beautiful transparent crust. The artists 
of Bohemia were also held in considerable reputation ; 
to them is due the invention of the white spiral string 
which runs twisiiug down the stems of wine-glasses, so 
much admired in the last century, and of which many 
specimens remain. 

The art was first practised in England in the year 
1557, when a manufactory was erected at Crutched 
Friars in the city of London ; and, shortly after, 
another at the Savoy in the Strand. These establish- 
ments chiefly confined themselves to common window- 
glass, or coarse bottles, all the finer articles being still 
imported from Venice. About a century later, the cele- 
brated Duke of Buckingham brought workmen from 
Italy, and established at Lambeth a manufactory of plate- 
glass for mirrors and coach-windows in 1 673. Since 
that time the art has made constant progress in Eng- 
land, and has now attained to such a degree of perfec- 
tion that plates of larger dimensions are made here than 
in almost any other part of the world. Mirrors are pro- 
curable in London exceeding thirteen feet by seven, while 
the largest size in the Paris list is under eleven feet by 
seven; and in no other place is any approach made to 
(hose sizes, except at the Royal Manufactory of St. 
Ildefonso in Spain, where it is stated plates are cast 
measuring 13£ feet by 7|. 

The base of glass is silica, which forms a considerable 
portion of many stones, and may be called the sole 
mgredieut in crystal, flint, and sand. The substance is 
insoluble in water, and infusible in the greatest heat 
producible in common furnaces. If it could be melted, 
we might, perhaps, procure glass at once; but, as this 
cannot be done, it is necessary to find some substance 
that will cause crystal to melt without destroying its tran- 
sparency ; this substance is alkali, either soda or potash. 
The process of making flint-glass is as follows : — The 
finest white sand, such as most nearly resembles pounded 
crystal, is selected and washed thoroughly, so as to 
cleanse it, as far as practicable, from all impurities ; it is 
then mixed with soda or potash in different proportions, 
from a half to a third, according to the quality of the 
glass required T: some other ingredients arc also added 
in much smaller quantities, as red lead, arsenic, and 
manganese, to clear the glass, to destroy all colour, 
and to make it melt easily. The mixture is. now placed 
in the furnace, and heated gradually as lon^ as any 
vapour rises from it; when this ceases, the fire is 
rapidly increased to its greatest violence, and continued 
nearly five hours : during which time, the sand, alkaji, 
and all the other materials, melt into a mass. The 
mass must be stirred in every direction the whole 
of the time with an iron rake or scraper* which is 
changed, as soon as it gets hot, for a cold one, of 
which there is a supply ready, because the melted 
matter sticks to hot iron, while cold iron is free 
from this inconvenience. When the mass appears to 
be sufficiently mixed and agglutinated, it is taken out, 
cooled, carefully picked over to separate the dirt, and 
washed; m this state it is called frit. In preparing 
the frit for making green bottle-glass, the coarsest 



materials 6nty AH taken, sue! as common s& of ffvefc 
sand, and soap-boilers' waste. Legal enactments prd- 
hihit the use of finer materials for this purpose. Tie; 
process of preparing the frit differs but little in 6th«r 
respects. 

The frit is afterwards eonveyed to the glass furnace", 
a domed building about ten feet in height by sit or 
seven In diameter, and furnished with holes all round 
to put in and take out the metal. Within this furnace 
the frit is deposited in crueibles or melting pots, in 
which it is exposed to the greatest practicable heat. 
The hole's round the furnace are provided with clay 
stoppers, on the removal of which, the matter in the 
crucibles may be seen to melt slowly, and to form by 
degree's a pasty mass, at first thick and opaque, but 
gradually acquiring transparency; then a thick scum 
rises to the surface, which is driven off" in vapour by 
the application of vehement heat. When the scum is 
gone, the mass is now visibly converted into glass, but 
filled with little points like those appearing in ale 
poured into a tumbler. , These points enlarge and be- 
come bubbles, in which state they rise slowly to the 
surface, burst, and disappear ; the glass is then com- 
plete. To judge of its state of forwardness, the work- 
man, from time to time, takes out a lump by means of 
an iron rod, to which the glass sticks like paste. 
When he finds it quite ready, he proceeds to make some 
article — a bottle, perhaps : for this purpose he takes an 
iron pipe above four feet in length, dips one end of it 
Into the melted mass, draws out a lump, and rolls it 
upon a cast-iron table, until it is equally covered by the 
glass ; he then carefully picks off any dirt with his 
pincers. If he has not metal enough for the article 
he wishes to make, he dips his tube again and again, 
until Jt has taken up a sufficiency. He then applies 
his mouth to the other end of the pipe, and blows 
strongly through it ; the soft glass swells up like a 
bladder, and forms a globe, which he lengthens by rapid 
whirling round himself, or converts into a cylinder by 
rolling upon the table. When the process is thus far 
advanced, the workman detaches the pipe from the 
metal in the following manner : — he dips a small rod of 
iron into the melting pot, and by the help of the little 1 
lump of glass adhering to it, he sticks it to the further 
end of the article he is making. This little rod he 
holds in his left hand, while, with his right, he lets a 
drop of water fall on the neck of the bottle, where U 
joins the tube ; the tube Immediately drops off, or is 
separated by a slight blow, and the bottle is held up 
by the rod only. The neck is then fashioned with 
shears and other tools, and the bottle is made. It is 
then removed to another furnace, where it is allowed to 
cool re*ry slowly, in order to prevent cracking, to which 
glass, quickly cooled, is very liable ; this last process el 
termed annealing. 

The above mode of blowing is sufficient for round 
bottles, 6r other articles of similar form, but for square 
or flat bottles a mould of iron or copper is required ; 
this is made in two halves, between which the un- 
finished round bottle is placed, while yet very soft, and 
adhering to the blow-pipe. The mould is then shut 
close, and the air strongly forced into the bottle, which 
forces the glass to take the form of the mould. Names 
and coats of arras are often impressed on bottles in this 
manner. The article is afterwards annealed as usual. 

Common window glass is at first blown much in the 
same way as battles. A large globe is formed exactly 
in the same manner, and when it is necessary to sepa- 
rate the pipe, another workman is required to fix the 
irtm rod to the other end on account of the great 
weight r the pipe is then separated. Thus far every 
thing is done as before stated, but the subsequent ope- 
rations, by which the globe is converted into a flat 
circular piece, are perfectly dissimilar. Different modes 

% A % 



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of effecting this are in uA in different manufactories, 
but the most striking is that termed " flashing," which 
tve proceed to describe. The rod to which the glass 
globe is attached is turned round upon its axis, at first 
slowly, and afterwards rapidly. Every body, peihaps, 
has noticed a game of little giils, in which they turn 
round swiftly until their frocks swell out almost into an 
horizontal position, — the same effect is produced in the 
glass thus rapidly revolving. The hole where t^e blow- 
pipe separated enlarges gradually, and as the opening 
increases, the woikman increases the velocity until the 
globe assumes the form of a bowl or basin, when it 
suddenly spreads out with a sort of explosion and be- 
comes a circular table of red-hot glass. The iron rod 
is then detached from the centre of the plate, leaving a 
large lump called the bull's eye, and the glass is an- 
nealed as before. 

The art of making plate-glass is quite different from 
that of blowing. The greatest care in blowing will 
not entirely prevent the occurrence of streaks or flaws 
Upon its Surface, which spoil its beauty, and render it 
quite unfit for mirrors, as may be seen by the distorted 
figures produced in cheap looking-glasses, which are 
sometimes made of blown glass. For all superior 
purposes, glasses are cast rough upon a metal table, 
and afterwards ground and polished to any degree of 
fineness. The process is very expensive and elaborate, 
requiring large capital and skilful workmen. The 
furnaces for melting the glass in this manufacture are 
very large, and the melting pots contain nearly a ton 
of material. Square metal cisterns are placed in the 
pots to receive the melted glass, and to convey it to the 
tables on which it is to be cast : these cisterns remain 
some hours in the melting pots to acquire as great a 
heat as possible. They are then drawn out by means 
of a chain and pulleys, placed on a small iron carriage, 
and wheeled to the extremity of the table, which is 
furnished with ledges to confine the melted stuff; the 
glass is then let out of the cistern, either by turning it 
over or by slipping off the bottom, and a torrent of red- 
hot flaming glass rolls out upon the table, not quite 
fluid, like melted lead or iron, but somewhat thick and 
pasty, like melted sealing-wax. A large roller of metal, 
weighing about four hundred pounds, is rolled upon the 
surface to spread it evenly upon the table, and to make 
it of uniform thickness. The glass is now taken from 
the table, which is ready to receive another casting, and 
the operation is repeated .until all the metal is exhausted. 
The short time that glass remains liquid renders great 
quickness necessary in these operations, for the work 
cannot be held at the mouth of the furnace as may be 
done in blowing : the rapidity acquired by habit would 
be incredible to any one who has not witnessed the 
operation, and is surprising to those who do see it. 
When the glasses are well annealed, which takes many 
days to perform, they are rubbed upon each other with 
sand, emery, and polishing powder, until they acquire 
that evenness and polish which gives them so great a 
superiority over all other kinds of glass, and makes 
them the most splendid ornament of the palace and the 
drawing-room. 



The Past and the Present— Those who have never expe- 
rienced the want of the luxuries and conveniences of every 
description which London and other great cities and towns 
of England now afford, will not readily conceive how our 
ancestors contrived to pass their lives in any degree of 
comfort with their unpaved, unlighted, undrained streets— 
without water conveyed to their doors by pipes or aqueducts 
—without hackney-coaches, or other light vehicles for tra- 
velling—without a general or two-penny post— and a thou- 
sand other petty conveniences, the privation of any one of 
which would grievously disturb the temper and affect the 
comforts of the present generation.— Quarterly Renew. 



OSTADE. 

Adrian Van 0<*tadf, a distinguished painter of tin 
Flemish school, was horn at Luheck, in the year 1610, 
and studied under Fra« cis Hale, in company with 
Brauwer, with whom he contracted a clohe intimacy. 
The reputation which the works of Teniers then enjoyed 
led him to be ambitious of imitating the inanuei ii\ ihat 
artist. But he was deterred from the execution nf this 
project by the advice of Brauwer, aiuther Flench 
painter, who convinced him thai he could ue\er a tain 
a high place in his art if he dev< tad himself to ihe 
servile imitation of another, howe\er eminent. A an 
Ostade followed this advice, as well as the bent of his 
own mind ; for, while the subjects of which he made 
choice were of the same class with those of Teniers, he 
treated them in a manner altogether his own. 

Characteristic traits, some of which sirike us at the 
first glance, distinguish Ostade and Teniers. These two 
masters are equally admirable for the transparency and 
harmony of their works, but the colouring of Teniers is 
clear, gay, and silvery, and his touch firm, light, and 
bold, while the pencil of Ostade, always rich and soft, 
is sometimes wanting in firmness. 

If we consider design and composition, Teniers 
places in opposition, and unites with skill, numerous 
groups ; bold and able in giving all the effects of light, 
he develops extensive scenes in the open air, and gives 
them the spirit and life of nature, without any of his 
shadows being ever extravagant, and without even suf- 
fering the art of his combinations to be apparent. 
His figures are always correctly drawn ; their attitudes 
easy, and even graceful. Ostade, on the contrary, 
collects his figures into places feebly lighted ; — gene- 
rally in the interior of houses, where a partial gleam 
only breaks through the masses of foliage which shade 
the window. He does not always observe the laws of 
perspective with rigorous accuracy ; and the drawing of 
his figures is often incorrect. But he charms princi- 
pally by the spirit with which he animates his groups, 
by a general softness of composition, and by his 
mysterious and striking effects of light. 

But a difference, still more important, distinguishes 
the works of these two masters. Teniers, while he 
imitates Nature, preserves her grace. If he represents 
rustic festivals, we recognise in the sports of the pea- 
sants, in their joy, in their anger, the diversity of their 
characters. Every condition and every age has its 
peculiar manners. Ostade attaches himself constantly 
to the representation of humorous scenes. Confining 
the circle of his models, he contents himself with 
choosing from the figure and the actions of peasants, 
whatever nature offers of grotesque and of low. He 
varies his subjects with skill, as well as the expression 
of his faces; but he never deviates from the burlesque 
style which he has chosen. Teniers paints the manners 
of the Dutch peasantry as they were marked by occa- 
sional grossness, but with a general character of hearty 
jollity and of mirth proceeding from content. Ostade, 
a satirist, deforms his personages to render them more 
droll and ridiculous. The director of Ostade's taste, 
Brauwer, painted in alehouses the companions of his 
debauchery ; Ostade, on the contrary, as well as Teniers, 
was remarkable for the decency and the gravity of his 
manners. 

The coarse natures and the gross enjoyments which 
Ostade delighted to paint are represented with such 
truth and excellence, that the most refined taste regards 
1 his works with satisfaction. He surprises the^ judg- 
ment into such implicit admiration by the truth of cha- 
racter and energy of effect displayed, that the grouud 
which his choice of subjects often affords for censure is 
forgotten. It is true that his pictures are not always 
of a low character; but Van Ostade did not often 



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attempt any other, nor excel when he did. It did not 
occur to the Dutch painters to do what our own Wilkie 
has so admirably done, — to invest the representations 
of common life with dignity and grace, by associating 
them jwith scenes which, though familiar, affect the 
heart :— 

« Some naural kotow, 1 in. or pain, 
Which h*» been, and may he again." 

The works of Ostade are too highly laboured to be 
very numerous, and hence they are now only to be 
bought at very high prices. His peculiar talent was so 
much appreciated by the artists of his own time, that 
many of the most eminent were in the habit of soliciting 
him to put the figures into their landscapes, by which 
their value was greatly increased. He had already ac- 
quired considerable reputation, when the approach of 



the French troops in 1662 induced him to withdraw 
from Haarlem, where he had gone to complete his 
studies. He had sold all his works, and intended to 
return to Lubeck ; but, on his arrival at Amsterdam, 
an amateur, called Constantine Senneport, so forcibly 
represented to him the advantages which an artist pos- 
sessed in a great city, that he was induced to settle at 
Amsterdam, and remained there until his death in 
1685. 

This picture, from the Muse'e Franc,ais, which we 
have engraved, is particularly remarkable for extreme 
finish. The whole bears the greenish and violet tint 
which was familiar to Ostade ; the colouring is rather 
monotonous, and the touch wants vigour; but the 
effect of the light is managed with great skill, and the 
head of the principal figure is full of spirit and cha- 
racter. 



[The < Smoker/ by Ostade.] 



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eendcd by met*?, nm^k pack, which, ia many pbees, 
crumbled and broke away under the mule's feet. The 
whole of this conical hill is composed of volcanic tufa, 
covered here and there with a thin white aoU, and, in 
some parts, broken with mass* of lava. The town 
itself is a miserable, dirty place, consisting of some thirty 
or forty houses, of one story, built with rough stones, 
wood, and mud. We could scarcely pass through the 
main street — which is narrower than ihe narrowest alley 
in London — for the pigs, which seemed to live on very 
intimate terms with the inhabitants, and for the mud 
and filth that was accumulated in every part of it. The 
situation, the view it commands, and the coolness of the 
air on that mountain- top, are, however, delicious. As 
we went through the town, we were followed by nearly 
all the women and girls, pressing as to bay cotton night- 
caps, which they make themselves from cotton grown 
on the island. We were entertained in a tolerably 
clean and comfortable house, by a Greek, who exercised 
the functions of Dutch vice-consul. This house was 
curiously situated on the very edge of a rock that 
descended like a wall to the deep iEgean Sea, into which 
we could drop stones from one of the windows. The 
height must have been between two and three thousand 
feet. After having examined the town, where we found 
several beautiful fragments of ancient marbles, and 
architectural ornaments, one of which (the capital of a 
column of the Corinthian order) had been hollowed 
out and then served as a pig-trough, while most of the 
others were converted into steps, or imbedded in the 
walls of the houses, we proceeded to the ancient Greek 
tombs, which are situated a little lower down the hill. 
To our surprise, we found a labyrinth of subterranean 
passages running through the hill in every direction. 
Indeed, the whole of the superior part of this hill is 
completely honeycombed. iWe passages, which are 
now, for the most part, choked up with soil and rubbish, 
are series of burying- places, the total number of which 
is so enormous that it would almost induce us to believe, 
though we find no authority in ancient writers for such 
a conclusion, that Melos* was a favourite place of 
sepulture among the ancient Greeks — a Necropolis, or 
city of the dead, for all tbe surrounding islands. Jn 
ot£er parts of Milo there aw tombs almost as numerously 
congregated as here ; and, whatever may have been the 
superior population in its flourishing times, we can 
scarcely believe that it could require all these burying- 
places. 

We crept into several of the dark, melancholy passages, 
which appear to have been lined throughout with fine 
stucco, and ornamented, at intervals, with figures in 
terra-cotta, in very bold relief. Put every thing ac- 
cessible had been removed before our time. We, how- 
ever, procured from a peasant a specimen of the clay- 
relievi. It was like a thick, flat tile, about fifteen 
iuches long, by nine inches broad. There were three 
figures in profile, that seemed to form part of a pro- 
cession, upon it. The style of these figures was very 
simple and ancient, and seemed to be something between 
the oldest Egyptian and that style vaguely denominated 
the Etruscan. The clay, or terra-cotta, was a beautiful 
compact, yellowish-red substance, and so well baked as 
to be harder than granite. The outline of tl.c figures, the 
relief of which was not rounded off, but stoi d up straight 
and flat from the ground of the piece, was as sharp 
and perfect as if it had just come from the artists 
hands, although the fragment had been subjected to very 
rough treatment since it had been dug up by the poor 
Greek. A short time before our visit to the island, a 
French nobleman (I believe the Count Delaborde) had 
some of the tombs laid open, and some excavations 
made. A beautiful small statue, of the very best period 

• The tncwat Grtm imm «f ItiU. 



of Grecian art, some curious gold 



•Mm* 




other relics of antiquity, which warn all 
the French king, were the nesuUi of thece 
ami, as I was informed* were found entirely < 
tombs. 

A few days after our first visit, as i 
up to die town, we witnessed the 
modem Greek funeral. Tim tomb was net i 
sical or elegant, but some of the forms 
evidently derived from the elamtea! agaa. We 
examining an old halfrruiaed chapel that stands on the 
hill side, about midway between the port and the 
ancient cemeteries, when pur ears were struck with 
sounds of lamentation and woe. On looking np, we 
saw a procession of about thirty persons winding slowly 
down a steep zig-zag path that leads from the town to 
the old chapel. As it approached nearer, we saw that 
this procession was chiefly composed of women, who 
preceded a dead body borne on an open bier, and who 
tore their dishevelled hair am) beat their breasts, and 
uttered wild cries as they advanced. Tfceee represented 
the preficgp, or hired troop of female mourners of 
ancient days. 

As they reached the spot where we stood, we per- 
ceived that the dead body, which was that of an elderly 
woman, was arrayed in her best attire, and thai flowers 
were strewed over her and the ope* bjer on which she 
was carried, and that a bouquet was placed in each of 
her hands, which were erossed over her breast. The 
bier was closely followed by the female relatives of the 
deceased, whose beads were completely enveloped and 
concealed in folds of white drapery. &\\ this was pei - 
fectly in accordance with ancient usage. 

The procession passed to the rear of the chapel, where 
we saw a rude shallow grave, acarcely three feet deep. 
As the women who headed the Una of march drew near 
to the grave, they tore their hair, beat their breasts, 
and cried aloud more violently than ever. The bier 
was set down on the brink of the tomb, at either end 
of which a priest with an encensoir took his poM. 
Then all the near relations of the deceased, male and 
female, approached, and* one by one, took a last em- 
brace, raising the corpse in their arms, calling on its 
name, and then laying its head on the bier. While 
this was doing, the female mourners repeated the name 
of the deceased, and showed the utmost extravagance 
of grief. In a few minutes the body was lifted up by 
the priests and two male relatives, and deposited as it 
was, full dressed, but without any coffin or shell of any 
kind, in the shallow grave. The grave, however, was 
boarded beneath in part, and under the head of the 
corpse they carefully placed a cushion or pillow. Tlie 
voice of lamentation was then hushed for awhile ; — the 
priests said the service for the dead, laid a small wooden 
cross on her breast, and threw a handful of earth into 
the grave. As the last symbolical action was performed 
the mourners again wailed, beat their breasts, and tore 
their hair ; but almost immediately after they all leic 
the grave and withdrew to the other side of the chapel. 
There was one little incident in this melancholy scene 
which almost provoked a smile. Before the body was 
covered, one of the party approached it, took off the 
shoes on its feet, which were a new pair, and the turban 
from its head, substituting for them an old pair of shoes 
and another turban of inferior quality. The earth was 
then thrown in upon the body, until the very shallow 
irrave was filled up, and a mound, only a few inches 
high, raised above it. 

As we were about to leave the place, an old Greek 
came to us and invited us to partake of the funeral feast, 
which all of the party were now celebrating in front of 
the chapel. We went, and were regaled with wine, 
raki (a bad sort of brandy), cakes made of honej, oil, 
and flour, and with " colyve," which is a specks c€ 



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[May 10, 1884 



pudding composed of boiled wheat, almonds, and honey. 
Except the raki, these materials were pretty much the 
game as those used both by the ancient Greeks and the 
ancient Romans on the same occasions. The cates and 
drink were distributed by the priests, who seemed to 
partake sufficiently copiously of both. After this feast, 
which occupied about half an hour, the procession again 
formed, passed by the grave, throwing a few flowers 
and dark-green herbs upon it as they passed it, and 
then slowly ascended the hill to the little town. 

(To U concluded in the next Number.] 



SALMON FISHING ON THE COAST OF ANTRIM, 
AND SAGACITY OF A DOG. 

" Thk mode of Ashing on this coast is different from any that 
1 have seen : the net is projected directly outward from the 
shore, with a slight bend, forming a bosom in that direction 
in which the salmon come. From the remote extremity, a 
rope is brought obliquely to another part of the shore, by 
which the net may be swept round at pleasure and drawn to 
the land ; a heap of small stones is then prepared for each 
person. All things being ready, as soon as the watchman 
perceives the fish advancing to the net, he gives the word, 
and immediately some of the fishermen seize the oblique 
rope by which the net is swept round to enclose the salmon, 
while the rest keep up an incessant cannonade with their 
ammunition of stones to prevent the retreat of the fish till 
the net has been completely pulled round them ; after 
which they all join forces and drag the fish quietly to the 
rocks. Now that I am upon the subject of fishing, I may 
mention an instance of sagacity which I had an opportunity 
of observing a short time since, in a water-dog of this 
country, who had become an excellent fisher. In riding 
from Portrush to the Giant's Causeway with some company, 
we had occasion to ford the river Bush near the sea ; and 
as some fishermen were going to haul their net, we stopped 
to see their success. As soon as the dog perceived the men 
to move, he instantly ran down the river of his own accord, 
and took post m the middle of it on some shallows, where 
ne could occasionally run or swim, and in this position he 
placed himself with all the eagerness and attention so 
strongly observable in a pointer dog who sets his game. 
"We were for some time at a loss to apprehend his object ; 
but the event soon satisfied us, and amply justified the 
prudence of the animal ; for the fish, when they feel the 
not, always endeavour to make directly to sea. Accordingly, 
one of the salmon, escaping from the net, rushed down the 
stream with great velocity toward the ford, where the dog 
stood ready to receive him at an advantage. A very 
diverting chase now commenced, in which, from the shallow- 
ness of the water, we could discern the whole track of the 
fish, with all its rapid turnings and windings. After a 
smart pursuit, the dog found himself left considerably 
behind, in consequence of the water deepening, by which he 
had been reduced to the necessity of swimming. But, 
instead of following this desperate game any longer, he 
readily gave it over, and ran with all his speed directly 
down the river, till he was sure of being again to seaward of 
the salmon, wher? he took p >st, as before, in his pointer's 
attitude. Here the fish a second time met him, and a fresh 
pursuit ensued; in which, after various attempts, the 
salmon at last made its way out to sea, notwithstanding all 
the ingenious and vigorous exertions of its pursuer. 
Though the dog did not succeed at this time, yet I was 
informed that it was no unusual thing for him to run down 
his game ; and the fishermen assured me that he was of 
very gr«at advantage to them by turning the salmon toward 
the nets ; in which point of view his efforts in some measure 
corresponded with the cannonade of stones which I before 
mentioned.' ' — Ham Moris Antrim. 



Mental Culture.— \i was said by Charles XII. of Sweden, 
that he who was ignorant of the arithmetical art was but 
half a man. With how much greater force may a similar 
expression be applied to him who carries co his grave the 
neglected and unprofitable seeds of faculties which it de- 
pended on himself to have reared to maturity, and of 
which the fruits bring accessions to human happiness more 
precious than all the gratifications which power or wealth 
can command. — Dug aid Stewart. 



Incredulity.— Raleigh calls incredulity the " wit d 

fools." 

Entire Application. — Little can be done well to which 
the whole mind is not applied. — Johnson. 



Genius. — A distinguished teacher, and president of a 
college, defined genius to be " the power of making efforts." 
—Annals of Education. 



Best Place and Best Friend. — The best place in the world 
is the saddle of a rapid courser : the best friend in the world 
is a good book. — Arabian Author. 



Common Qualities. — The ambition of a man of parts is 
very often disappointed for the want of some common quality, 
by the assistance of which men with very moderate abilities 
are capable of making a great figure. — Armstrong. 



Knowledge and Ignorance.— The man of knowledge lives 
eternally after his death, while his members are reduced to 
dust beneath the tomb. But the ignorant man is dead, 
even while he walks upon the earth : he is numbered with 
living men, and yet existeth not. — Arabian Author. 



Economy.— A sound economy is a sound understanding 
brought into action. It is calculation realized. It is the 
doctrine of proportion reduced to practice. It is foreseeing 
contingencies, and providing against them. It is expecting 
contingencies, and being prepared for them. — Hannah More. 



Roman History. — One feels the same kind of disgust in 
reading Roman history which one does in novels, and even 
epic poetry. We too easily foresee, to whom the victor}' will 
fall. The hero, the knight-errant, and the Roman, are too 
seldom overcome. — Shenstone. 



Remote Views. — It is common to overlook what is near by 
keeping the eye fixed on something remote. In the same 
manner present opportunities are neglected and attainable 
good is slighted by minds busied in extensive ranges*, and 
intent upon future advantages. Life, however short, is made 
shorter by waste of time ; and its progress towards happiness, 
though naturally slow, is made still slower by unnecessary 
labour. — Johnson. 



Routine Education.— -It is related by Miss Edgeworth, 
that a gentleman, while attending an examination of a 
school, where every question was answered with the greatest 
promptness, put some questions to the pupils which were 
not exactly the same as found in the book. After numerous 
ready answers to their teacher on the subject of geography, 
he asked one of the pupils where Turkey was. She an- 
swered rather hesitatingly, * in the yard, with the poultry: 



Practical Instruction. — A gentleman, not long since, took 
up an apple to show a niece, sixteen years of age, who had 
studied geography several years, something about the shape 
and motion of the earth. She looked at him a few minutes, 
and said with much earnestness, '• Why, uncle, you dont 
mean that the earth really turns round, do you ? " He re 
plied, " But did you not learn that several year* ago ? " 
" Yes, sir," she replied, " I learned it, but I never knew it 
before." Now it is obvious that this young lady had been 
labouring several years on the subject of geography, and 
groping in almost total darkness, because some kind friend 
did not show her at the outset, by some familiar illustration, 
that the earth really turned round.— Amctican Annals of 
Education. 



%• The O Act of the Society for the Diffusion of Utefil Knowitdg* b at 
S9, LlncoluVInn FltJtfs. 

LONDON j CHARLES KNIGHT, 82, LUDOATE 8TRKKT. 



Printed by William Clowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 

OF THE 

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 

]3(jJ PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [May 17, 1884. 

NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE. 



VOL. Hi * Jtf 

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THE PINNY MAGAZfNT. 



m#n 



fiu* botough, feevpftrt, *nd county-town oeeupies the 
north bank of the river Tyne, over which there is a 



handsome stone bridge connecting the place with notice of this wall occurs in a deed of Edward I., who 



Gateshead jo the neighbouring county of Durham, 
Newcastle is of great antiquity, and of considerable 
note in history. It was established as<a military sta- 
tion of til© Romans by Agricola, in the year $0. Here 
was the eastern termination of the wall built by order 
of Hadrian, in the year 120, to defend the Roman pro- 
vince from the incursions of the Caledonians, and which 
has been traced passing the west door of St. Nicholas's 



towers an* ft rafctad frith seven gtses* beside* wfafch 
the place was defended by a wide ditch. An incidental 



granted to tfo black friars or Dominiaaft9 the right to 
make a passage through the new wall to their garden. 
At a later period, Lelaad said of this wall, " The strength 
apd magmfieens of the waulling far passeth all the 
waulls of the cities of England, and most of the townes 
of Europe." Newcastle, at this early period, had 
become one of the principal commercial ports of the 
kingdom; and it appears from authentic documents 



church. The town is supposed to have originated from that the revenues of the town had, in 1280, risen to 



a bridge built over the river by Hadrian, and called from 
his family name PonsjElii, — a denomination which was 
alsp taken by the town. Roman coins and other an- 
tiquities have been discovered at Newcastle at different 
times, particularly after the floods in 1771, when the 
foundations of the bridge having been damaged, coins 
of Hadrian and other emperors were discovered at the 
bases of the piers; and, in 1810, in excavating the 
ground fer the erection of a new county court, two 
Roman altars were disinterred, together with coins of 
Antoninus Pius, the successor of Hadrian, as well as 
other remains of antiquity. 

Prom the evacuation of Britain by the Romans 
until the Conquest little is known of this place ; but 
there is no doubt of its having been a town of import- 
ance under the Northumbrian monarchs of the Saxon 
line, who appear to have been succeeded in the pos- 
session of it by the Danes ; and, at the Conquest, it was 
in the hands of the Scots. It was then known by the 
name of Munk-ceastre or Monk-chester, a designation 
which it obtained from the number of religious founda- 
tions which bad been established in it during the Hep- 
tarchy, and some remains of which are still in existence. 
The Scots were speedily expelled, and a eastle being 
erected by Robert, the eldest son of the Conqueror, on 
the site of an old fortress, the town thence took its pre- 
sent name of Newcastle. This castle occupied an 
extent of three acres, and was a fortress of great 
strength, having been defended by a deep ditch and 
two massive walls. Many historical recollections are 
connected with this structure, which has now fallen to 
% decay. Of the outer wall nothing remains but the 
principal entrance, called the Black Gate ; the inner 
wall was entirely demolished in 1811. The great 
tower, a massive square structure, is standing; it is 
about eighty feet high, and its exterior walls measure 
about fourteen feet in thickness, and extend sixty-two 
feet by fifty-four. There are no fire-places in any part 
of this edifice, except in a few small rooms which 
appear to have l>ecn cut out of the walls in later 
times. The dungeon was used from time immemorial, 
until the erection of the present Court-house, as the 
county prison during the assizes. A very bold circular 
staircase ascends to the summit of the tower ; and ad- 
joining, on the east side, is a chapel of most beautiful 
and curious architecture. 

The town itself appears to have been surrounded by 

a wall so early as the reign of King John, who granted 

a charter to the inhabitants; but the oldest charter 

obtant is said to be that of Henry III., who, in 1239, 

bestowed on the townsmen the right of digging in the 

vicinity for coal and stone. In the reign of Edward I., 

Newcastle, was taken and burnt by the Scots ; and 

among their prisoners was one of the burgesses, who, 

»aid his ransom, and on his return 

rebuilding the fortifications, to the 

he largely contributed : they were 

inhabitants in general, encouraged 

united to the town the hamlet of 

Ion, which was included within the 

walV. *fbl* wvmpart w said to have been twelve feet 

l.igh, n:i:l c'^ht in thickness, strengthened with several 



200/. a year — a large sum at that time. This income 
was derived chiefly from the municipal duty upon coal, 
the use of which for fuel did not, however, become 
general until long subsequently to that period. In 
1346, seventeen ships and 314 mariners were furnished 
by this port for the siege of Calais, on the requisition 
of Edward III. The situation of Newcastle, upon the 
borders of Scotland, exposed it to the repeated attacks 
of the Scots before the union of the two kingdom!. 
When they invaded En| he out- 

breaking of the civil war, »f New- 

castle. It was afterwards tyalists; 

but, |n 1664, it was again, alter a long siege, taken by 
the Scots, who were then in alliance with the Parlia- 
ment. 

The town is about ten mites from the mouth of the 
Tyne, but the river is there a fine, deep, and noble 
stream ; its banks are steep, and the ground rises on 
each aide to a considerable height. Ships of 300 or 
400 tons burden may reach the town itself; larger 
vessels deliver their cargoes and take in their lading at 
Shields ; and the river forma so secure and commodious 
a haven, that danger rarely if ever ensues in it either 
from storms or shallows. 

The town within and without the walls extends for 
more than two miles along the river, and about one 
mile from the river towards the north and north-west, 
rising along the hill and crowning its summit. The 
houses are, with very few exceptions, built either of 
stone or of brick; the streets near the river, which 
were formed at a remote period of time, are narrow, 
irregular, and steep, and the buildings on the slope of 
the hill much crowded together : but with its progress 
in wealth and importance the town has received pro- 
portionable additions and improvements ; several of the 
streets have been widened, and a great number of 
modern ones have been erected, especially in the north 
and west quarters of the town. These newer quarters 
are laid out with skill and taste, and in a superior style 
of architecture ; and the spirit of improvement, with the 
increasing prosperity of the place, bid fair to render it 
equal in convenience and elegance to the first towns of 
the kingdom. The Boundary Commissioners, in their 
Reports (Part iv. p. 173,) state, " We are led to believe 
that the condition of the town of Newcastle is gene- 
rally flourishing ; we have observed numerous buildings 
of a very good and respectable, and some of a very 
superior description, either in progress or very recently 
completed ; and we were informed by the parish officers 
that the town was increasing." 

Of the public buildings, the most remarkable is the 
church of St. Nicholas, noted as one of the most 
admired structures of the kind in the island. This fine 
church crowns a bold eminence which rises abruptly 
from the surface of the river to near the centre of the 
town. From this commanding position it presents, 
in every point of view, a most striking specimen of 
architectural skill. " It is/ 1 Slit the writer of 4 A 
Deacripth tf the Town mod 

County oi * object of pride 

and boast to me in niptrants ; ana it asm fiats, by Its 
singular and oqgpnal combinations of magnificence! 



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delicacy, and mgemrtty, ta enchant and gratify every 
ttranger who has * an eye to we an<f a soul to feel. 1 " 
The building appears to hare been originally founded 
in the fourth year of Wftttam ftufus (1091), by 
Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury ; but it does not seem to 
have been completed in its pr esent stale until 1359, 
the first structure having been destroyed by fire in 
1216. The building is 84* feet long, 7* wide, and 
the height of the tower 193 feet 6 inches. This 
structure has been compared to an imperial crown. 
The tower is square, and its four angles are decorated 
with lofty and highly-ornamented spires, from whose 
bases spring four segments of arches, which at their 
intersection, twenty feet above the battlements, support 
a lantern of exquisite lightness and beauty, with 
•mailer spires than those of the tower at its angles, 
while from its centre rises a lofty and welt-proportioned 
pinnacle, which, terminating with a tee vane, finishes 
this extraordinary structure. This tall and elegant 
pinnacle, which is hollow within, is built with stones 
only four inches in breadth, and indeed most of the 
stones, throughout the tower are such as the workmen 
might have carried under their arms. There are three 
other churches, and several chapels of ease, besides 
fifteen places of worship belonging to dissenters. New- 
castle has several fine public buildings. The Exchange 
was built in 165S, and has since been much improved ; 
the second floor is used as a Guildhall, and contains, 
among other portraits, those of Earl Eldon, Lord 
Stowell, and the late Admiral Lord Collingwood, all 
natives of this town; as was the late Dr. Hutton. 
That very original artist and engraver, Bewick, one 
of whose pupils furnishes our present wood-cut, was 
born near and lived at Newcastle. 

The new courts of justice for the county of North- 
umberland, the Mansion House, the Theatre, the 
Assembly Rooms, and the Library, are the other more 
important public buildings. The new bridge over the 
Tyne was finished in 1781, at a cost of 30,000/. ; it 
is a very strong, handsome structure,- of nine elliptic 
arches, and extends 600 feet in length. To the south 
and east of the Exchange there is a spacious area, 
which, being well waarfed up and faced with freestone, 
forms the quay, which is one of the largest and longest 
in any part of Great Britain. Newcastle is honourably 
distinguished by its institutions for the advancement 
and diffusion of knowledge, for the number of its esta- 
blishments for gratuitous instruction and for relief to 
the afflicted. 

The importance and prosperity of Newcastle have 
chiefly emanated from the coal trade, for the prosecu- 
tion of which the town is admirably situated on the 
bank of a navigable river, and in the midst of one of 
the most extensive coal-fields m Great Britain, or 
perhaps in the world. Coal is scarcely mentioned in 
history until after the grant of Henry III., relative to 
the right of digging for coal, in 1*239 ; but, thirty-six 
years after, the commerce in this article had become 
very considerable, and it continued to increase, not- 
withstanding that the prejudice against using coal for 
fuel was so great, that, in 130(5, it was prohibited m 
London under severe penalties. This prohibition was 
subsequently removed, and it appears that the trade in 
coal between Newcastle and London was authorized by 
government in 1381. In 1699, two-thirds of the cosl- 
trade of the kingdom belonged to this town, whence 
300,000 chaldrons a year were sent to the metropolis ; 
and 600 vessels of 80 chaldrons burden each, together 
with 4500 men, were employed in carrying on this com- 
merce. The quantity of coal shipped from Newcastle, 
in 1791, was 404,367 chaldrons sent coastwise, and 
45,702 over sea ; in 1801, 459,099 sent coastwise, and 
50,401 over sea; in 1811, 684,871 sent eoastwise, and 
18,054 over sea ; in 18811, 899,391 sent coastwise, and 



48,097 over sea $ arid hi 1886, 800,487 ietff ceaNwis*, 
and 62,620 over sea. 

In the number of vessels belonging to its port, 
Newcastle fc inferior Only to London: the number 
was, m 1829, 987 ships of 202,379 registered tonnage. 
Its foreign trade seems also increasing. The British 
vessels which entered from foreign parts in 1831 were 
422,— tonnage, 68,975; and the foreign vessels, 348,^» 
tonnage, 33,402 ; whereas, m 1S26, the British vessels 
from foreign parts were only 300, and the foreign 
vessels only 226. 

The borough has returned members to Parliament 
ever since the reign of Edward I. From 1705 to the 
passing of the Reform Bill, the elective franchise was 
exercised by the corporation and freemen, who amounted 
to 4000. In 1 83 1 , the number of houses in the borough 
was 5232, of whieh 2961 were taxed at 10/. a-year and 
upwards; the annual value of the real property was 
123,790/.; and the population amounted to 42,760; 
but the borough, as enlarged by the Reform Bill, 
contains 7120 houses, and a population of 58,613,' 
according to the Boundary Reports. 



CLOCKS. 



The first mode of measuring the lapse of time was 
undoubtedly the observation of the sun's motion. In 
ahnost all climates the morning, noon, and evening 
would be readily distinguished. The Babylonians ap- 
pear to be the first who obtained greater accuracy by 
the invention of the sun-dial, at what epoch is not 
exactly known, but it was evidently at a very remote 
period. The dial of Ahaz> mentioned by Isaiah, must 
have existed eight centuries before the Christian era ; 
and it is a curious example of the little communication 
which existed in ancient times between the nations of 
the world that this instrument was unknown to the 
Greeks until about 640 b.c. One of these Grecian 
sun-dials is preserved in the British Museum. It is 
conjectured that it served to show the hour in one of 
the cross-ways of Athens. The following is a represen- 
tation of it ; the Greek inscription, placed on the ex* 
terior of the two western faces, states, that " Phsedrus, 
the son of Zoilus a Pieonian, made this :" — 



A few centuries later, the Egyptians, in order to dis- 
tinguish the hours at night and in cloudy weather^ 

A B 8 

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



[May 17> 



invented the clepsydra, or water-clock ; probably a mere 
float, with a rod fixed upon it like a mast, and placed 
in a vessel of water with a hole at the bottom : as the 
water ran out the float descended, and figures marked 
on the rod, at proper intervals, showed the number 
of hours elapsed. The sand-glass, made like the 
modern hour-glass, was also used in ancient times, 
as appears from a bas-relief representing the marriage 
of Peleus and Thetis, in which is the figure of Mor- 
pheus holding a glass of this construction. 

The period of the invention of wheel-clocks is in- 
volved in uncertainty, some authors stating it to have 
been as early as the fourth, and others as late as the 
tenth century. The cause of this disagreement is that 
the word clock has been used to designate the clepsydra 
and hour-glass ; and probably the clocks mentioned by 
old chroniclers, and set down by modern authors as 
proofs of the antiquity of the invention, were some 
modifications of these instruments. Such, probably, 
was the clock sent by Paul I. to Pepin le Bref, in 760. 

The French historians describe a clock sent to Charle- 
magne, in 807, by Haroun al Rashid, the Caliph of the 
East, which struck the hours by the falling of twelve 
brass balls upon a bell. It had also twelve horsemen, 
who came out, one at a time, at separate doors, which 
they opened and closed again. This clock must certainly 
have been furnished with some kind of wheel- work, but 
the moving power is said to have been the fall of water. 

In the twelfth century, clocks moved by weights ap- 
pear to have been used in Italy, and early in the four- 
teenth one was put up in London by Wallingford, a 
monk, who died in 1325, which was said to show the 
time with accuracy. In the year 1344, Giacomo Dondi 
erected at Padua his celebrated clock, which, besides 
the hour of the day, showed the course of the sun in the 
ecliptic, and the places of the planets. The celebrity 
acquired by this clock was the cause of great advance- 
ment in the art; almost ever}' court in Europe was 
desirous of possessing a similar work, and skilful 
mechanics were in consequence induced to turn their 
attention to the manufacture. Its author was dignified 
with the surname of Horologius, which is still borne 
by his descendants, the chief of whom, the Marchese 
Dondi-Orologio, was lately, and most likely still is, a 
resident at Padua. 

A story told of Louis XI. (King of Prance from 
1461 to 1 483) shows that the art had then made great 
advances. A gentleman who had lost a great deal of 
money at play, stole a clock belonging to the king, and 
hid it in his sleeve. In a short time, the clock, which 
continued to go notwithstanding its removal, struck the 
hour, and the theft was of course discovered. Louis, 
as capricious in kindness as in tyranny, not only 
pardoned the culprit, but made him a present of the 
clock. All these instruments, though much superior to 
the clepsydra, and celebrated at the period of their 
invention for the accuracy of their movements, gave, 
according- to our present notions, but coarse approxima- 
tions to the true time. They were retarded greatly 
when a particle of dust got into their works, and 
accelerated when cleaned. As to the minute divisions 
of time, they were quite useless. Tycho Brahe, an 
astronomer who lived in the sixteenth century, and who 
spared no expense or trouble in their construction, 
found that no dependance could be placed upon them 
for his observations. 

'I he adaptation of the pendulum by the celebrated 
Huygens, in 1657, at once brought clock-making to 
perfection. The clock, which had hitherto merely 
served to divide the day into periods of sufficient 
accuracy for the details of business, or the hours of 
eating and sleeping, now became the means of record- 
ing the minutest lapses of time, of showing the smallest 
irregularities in the apparent motion of the sun and 



planets, and of inducing afironomy to the exactness of 
mathematical reasoning. Increased skill in workman- 
ship has, of course, produced greater accuracy, but the 
pendulum is still the means of giving it effect. 

[To be continued.] 



Cacao.— The ' Account of the Cacao-Tree and its Products,' 
in No. 127 of ' The Penny Magazine,' has induced a Corre- 
spondent to send us the following statement of what he 
considers the best mode of preparing the cacao-bean for use. 
Cacao, in the nut, is sold m his neighbourhood (300 miles 
from London) for 1*. 2d. per lb., and it may be roasted in 
any family at the cost of an additional penny. It is very 
desirable that it should be roasted by the consumers them- 
selves, at intervals not exceeding five days, as the shop- 
keepers do not roast frequently enough, and the strength 
and aroma of cacao, as